A Spiders Web
by twodollartrick
Summary: Draco has little time left after his world comes crashing down when he's diagnosed with a "muggle disease."
1. End

**_Dedicated to Brittney Miller... _**

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* * *

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_Life is not measured by the breaths you take_

_but the moments that take your breath away..._

* * *

I've always hated weakness. Weakness in myself, weakness in others, I hated all forms of it. I always vowed not to be weak and so I went through my school years as a cold-hearted bastard. People hated me and I hated them. I even hated the people I liked. I merely used them to get where I wanted to go. Crabbe and Goyle were useful for bodyguards and Pansy ... well, Pansy was useful for a cover-up.

Cue seventh year. Three days before I'm set to start and I was ashamed to admit that I felt weak. Not emotionally, but physically. I felt as though my body had been drained of all its energy. It wasn't the first time it had happened either. I'd had these little bouts of weakness on and off for the past couple of months, but that poignant day, Friday July 29th, was the weakest I'd ever felt. So much so, that I went into my library on the lower ground floor of my home and opened a copy of _Diagnosis SOS_.

I was told to place my left index finger on the first page and wait approximately fifteen seconds for the book to diagnose my problem. As promised, fifteen seconds later I was given the name of my disease.

Leukaemia.

I didn't know what the fuck it was, I couldn't even spell it. I couldn't even pronounce it, but as long as I knew what it was, it could be cured, right? Wrong. The tiny print at the bottom of the page made my knees buckle and when I'd reread it several times I threw the book across the room in fright.

Muggle disease.

I hate muggles. Always have, always will. I see them living their pathetic lives, with no magic and it makes me laugh to see them trudging through life, depressed, miserable, for them only to die quicker than they ever expected. But now I was diagnosed with this ... illness, I felt closer to them. I hated it.

I cursed the wretched book into oblivion with my wand and tried to forget about what it said. Easier said than done. Whatever I was doing, wherever I was, the word kept on imprinting in my mind.

Leukaemia.

I didn't know anything about it other than the fact that muggles caught it and it was making me weak. Something had to be done, so, very inconspicuously, I saw a muggle doctor – thing at a hospital. I was amazed to find out that they actually had one of those.

I entered the ugly building with my dark shades on and passed the weak muggles. A muggle child was sitting on a chair. It was a girl from what I could see but her hair was almost unapparent, save for a few strands on her bare scalp. I shuddered, and then laughed at the fact that muggles thought this type of fashion looked cool. I rubbed my hand through my own head of blonde hair and sneered at her. She didn't even notice as she sat there playing with her toys and I carried on to the reception desk.

"I have leukaemia," I announced shortly. The woman behind the desk, a red head that reminded me of the Weasel, looked taken-aback.

"Er ... okay, well if you'd like to take a seat, the doctor will see to you in a moment," she replied uselessly.

"I don't need to see a doctor," I snapped impatiently. "I have leukaemia, I want to get rid of it, tell me how to."

She looked sympathetic and I had a good mind to hex her into a slimy toad for feeling sorry for me. "Wait a moment, I'll see if I can fit you into an emergency slot," she said kindly. Fuck her, I didn't want her pity. I just wanted to get the cure and go.

Sure enough, I was bundled into a doctor's office where the fat old guy said in a slow, wheezing voice, "I understand you think you may have leukaemia young man?"

"Yes," I replied, "So if you'd like to give me the cure so I can leave, that'd be great."

He leaned forward in his chair, and I leant back in mine. "To proclaim you have leukaemia and be so sure of it, is quite remarkable, especially at a young age. However, if you are so sure of it, then it is a bit confusing as to how you don't know that cure's are not that simple."

The cryptic way in which he spoke reminded me of old Dumbledore at Hogwarts, and it infuriated me. However, this guy seemed to know what he was talking about, more than the other creeps in this place, so I had to stay on his good side.

He explained that he wanted me to ask a few questions, signs that people with the disease had.

"Pain in the joints or bones?"

"Yes," I replied reluctantly.

"Bruising and bleeding?"

"No," I replied, until I remembered the nosebleed I had a couple of days ago. "Wait, I had a nosebleed the other day. And I felt my mouth filling up with something a couple of weeks back, and I spat out some blood."

He nodded gravely, and my heart gave a shiver. "Night sweats?"

"Yeah," I replied miserably.

"Weight loss?"

"I ... er, I'm not sure."

"Loss of appetite?"

"Yes," I answered, a little frantically, "look, does this mean I've definitely got it?"

He sighed and folded his arms. "The symptoms _are _there," he said finally. "Naturally, I'll run a few tests before officially diagnosing you. I'll need to take a physical examination of you, and a blood test before we'll know for sure."

I nodded and the next few hours passed in a blur. The physical examination, the doctor told me, showed that my liver had slightly swelled up. A blood test was taken which confirmed that I had caught the fucking thing.

"Why?" I demanded, as though the doctor himself had put it there.

"We do not yet know how leukaemia is developed," he replied, "but we –"

"Fucking shit muggle technology," I shouted, standing up and pacing around the room. I wanted to fucking burn down his office. I then realised I let the word muggle slip but I was so angry I didn't care. I hated to admit it, but I was scared as well. I didn't know anything about the thing yet it was inside of me. I may not have knew what it was, but it sure knew who I was, infecting my body.

"I understand you're upset," the doctor replied in his wheezing voice, "but I must please ask you to control your anger."

I spun round and looked into his eyes, ready to take him out with a Crucacius, to watch him squirm and writhe under my power. But sadness was evident in the soft blue crinkled spheres, and I found myself sitting down, rather shamefacedly. I considered apologising, but that was taking it a step too far.

"I will not lie to you, leukaemia is not always curable," he said. "Only three in ten adults survive it."

I let out a low cry. "I can ... _die _from this?" I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I wiped them away furiously. "How long? How long have I got to live?" He didn't answer at first. "TELL ME," I screamed hysterically.

"We will take a small amount of your bone marrow with a needle and syringe," he said quietly, "which will tell us what type of leukaemia you have. Until then, I am afraid I cannot, and would not wish, to give you a specific timeline."

I nodded numbly. "Okay," I replied in a small voice. I looked down into my hands and hated them. The leukaemia was probably running through my fingers right now. I was suddenly afraid that if I touched myself, it would spread faster. Was it contagious?

The doctor extended his hand to me. I hesitated before a small smile crept over my face. I took his hand in mine and gave him a bone crushing vigorous handshake.

"Thanks for your time doc," I said, making sure my whole hand was engulfed in his. If I was going down, I was going to take the rest of the world down with me.

"If you'd like to go out to reception, you can book an appointment at a later date so we can conduct the bone marrow test."

"Sure thing doc," I said vaguely, willing the leukaemia to transfer itself from my body into his. He pulled his hand away and I watched him to see if he looked any different, but he didn't. And I still had an aching feeling in my leg, so I figured it was still there. I felt scared about this, but at the same time, strangely calm. I guess it was my Slytherin instincts kicking in.

On the way out a red ball being thrown fast towards me greeted me. My reflexes snapped into action and I caught it at the last second. I scowled, ready to curse whoever almost took the head off my shoulders with the damned thing.

"Katy, be careful!" a boy with black hair said. He ran towards me grinning. "Sorry about that, my sister has bad aim," he said, jerking his thumb in his kid sister's direction. I saw it was the bald headed freak I'd saw earlier on. She smiled mischievously. I reckoned she was about eight or nine, not old enough to punish her yet. I could punish her brother, but he was cute, so I let him be.

As I said earlier, Pansy was just a cover up. I couldn't stand girls, they made me sick. It wasn't immaturity; it's just that I was gay. I didn't particularly want to be. I'd saw the way gay people behaved, and it made me ashamed that I was associated with those flouncy queens. It wasn't until meeting a couple of gay wizards face to face over the summer that I realised that not all gay people had to act like that. Still, I knew my father would certainly not approve, so I kept it to myself, and must admit, found I was envious to watch those boys have fun with each other that Summer, not a care in the world, happy that they were out and living life being themselves.

"Katy, try and aim the ball to me next time, okay?" he said, walking over to her. He turned around and apologised to me again.

"No worries," I said, and carried on home. As I walked through the muggle street I kept wondering if it was obvious I had leukaemia. Did they know? I tried to watch their actions towards me, to see if they gave me strange looks, or moved away from me in disgust, but nobody acted like I was an outcast. That thought wasn't very pleasing either, however, as they obviously thought I was _one_ of them. I suppose I was, with this wretched thing growing inside of me.

I walked down a dark alley I'd passed earlier on and picked up a brick disguised as a portkey. As soon as I touched it, I was transported to my room at home. The jerky ride made me fall on my back when I arrived there, and I didn't bother to move, as I breathed heavily, tired out from the rollercoaster ride.

It was unbelievable. I, Draco Malfoy, was going to die. Inevitably. And with that bold declarative statement drumming itself evilly in my head, the tears started to flow from my eyes. I cried bitterly, hating myself, hating the world, hating the fucking disease, hating everything.


	2. Green

_The purpose of life_

_is a life with purpose..._

_

* * *

_

I was determined to win. That's me all over, I always want to win. If this thing wanted a fight, then it would get one, because I would not take this lying down. I'd have to do it in a tactile way, of course. I often chuckled at Crabbe and Goyle, for although they had the muscle to kick the shit out of anyone they wanted in the school, they could be easily outwitted by the smallest first former. But I understand that the key to beating an opponent senseless is to know what their game is, to know what they're about. Find their weaknesses and play on them.

And so, that's how I came to be on the train back to Hogwarts reading up on Leukaemia. I wanted to know everything about it so I could beat it. It was hard, with Pansy's prying eyes and wandering hands trying to gain access to me. I had to hide the pamphlet I received from the hospital inside a copy of the Quibbler and sit facing her so she wouldn't see. I'd commanded Crabbe and Goyle to get me a load of candy from anyone who had some.

"Is this turning you on, huh babe?" asked Pansy. It wasn't. Not just because it was a girl that was trying to rub my crotch, but the fact that the keyword was _trying_. I'd have had more pleasure from watching sheep go at it.

"Oh yeah," I said in a bored voice. "That's the stuff." Pansy giggled flirtatiously and continued to rub her hand over my pants as though she had dropped something on the floor and was frantically trying to find it.

"You want more, huh?" she asked.

"Yep, keep it coming," I said, continuing to read the pamphlet. It said that three in ten adults survive the disease, which I already knew, but when it comes to children, seven in ten survive. My heart gave a flicker of hope. Was seventeen classed as a child still? I know in some cases that they say sixteen is the point where you reach adulthood, but bodies continued to grow sometimes up until the age of twenty one. Maybe I was still considered a child? But my hopes were crushed when I turned the page.

There was a chart, showing the survival rate of Leukaemia. While the child's one was quite high, the adult one plummeted as low as my heart. Especially when I saw that children were classed from 0-15.

"You're so hot Draco," Pansy purred. I was suddenly snapped back to reality. I threw the Quibbler away from me in fury and watched the pages flutter in a flurry around the carriage. Pansy leapt back in fright and I couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of satisfaction that I could scare her. The pamphlet fall onto the seat opposite where it stared at me accusingly. I saw that Pansy had spotted it too. In a flash I had pulled my wand out of my robes and sent the fucking piece of crap into a flame-ridden oblivion. Pansy squealed and pulled her hand back in fright, just inches away from picking it up to inspect it.

"Fucking cheap trash," I muttered.

Pansy looked afraid. "Were you talking about that, or...?" her voice trailed off timidly.

"I was talking about you," I snarled. Her pug face crumpled into unhappiness and it infuriated me that she could be controlled so easily, even if I were the one doing the controlling. "You're so pathetic," I continued, "you've got the sex appeal of an Alsatian and you make me physically sick."

She was crying now, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. "I'm saying this to you and you're just sitting there, taking it. You're pathetic! Weak! Useless! Walk out if you don't want to hear it. Go on! If you don't like what I'm saying to you then walk out."

She predictably sat there, looking at me through tear-stained eyes. I turned away and looked out of the window, watching the scenery go by. Neither of us made any sounds, apart from the occasional subdued sniff from Pansy. After a while I heard the carriage door open and shut. I turned around, glad that the carriage was to myself, until I saw the bulking figures of Crabbe and Goyle standing at the door.

"What do you two great oafs want?" I asked nastily. Pansy flinched while Crabbe and Goyle looked at me stupidly, not knowing I'd insulted them. Their stupidity made me madder.

"You're so fucking stupid," I shouted, "why don't you fucking insult me back? Stand up to me." They didn't do anything of the sort as they stayed rooted to the spot, eyes downcast.

"I'm going," I announced, getting up from my seat and pushing past them, "to find some people with guts. I've had enough of you losers for today." I winced as a searing pain shot up my leg. My joints were seizing up again.

"Draco, are you okay?" asked Pansy concernedly, rushing to her feet. I couldn't stand her niceties.

"I'm fucking fine, quit fussing," I spat, pushing her back down with such force that Crabbe and Goyle took a menacing step towards me. I stared into their eyes, daring them to do something, to hit me in protection of Pansy, but my steely gaze weakened them, and I pushed past them, still gritting my teeth over my leg, and walked out of the carriage,

I usually resolved my aching joints in a nice, hot, soothing bath, but we still had hours to go before we reached the school so that wasn't an option. I wanted to sit down, but I didn't want to go and sit with those guys again. They'd only feel sympathetic.

I caught sight of three second former HufflePuffs running down the train in front of me. Their happiness annoyed me. Pointing my wand at the nearest one, I cast a spell that lifted him up into the air by his ankles. He screamed in terror and begged me to put him down, while his two friends watched the scene helplessly. My leg gave another jolt of pain and I almost cried out. Instead, I jerked the young boys body round in the air until he clutched onto his leg, crying bitterly. Satisfied, I released him from the spell and watched him drop to the floor, still clutching his leg.

"I-think-its-broken," he said in gasping sobs. My smile grew wider as I stepped over him, making sure I trod on his leg. My own leg felt much better. I wondered what there was to do now. Looking into the various carriages I saw many people were eating. I'd asked Crabbe and Goyle to get me some sweets earlier, but I didn't really feeling like eating them. I knew it was down to a symptom of Leukaemia, and to spite it, I wanted to gorge myself on food until I was sick, but it wasn't physically possible, I just couldn't eat.

I amused myself by threatening first years with a crucacius curse. Most of them must of knew who I was for they didn't dare try and tell me that the curse was illegal. I also looked at the new Slytherins in interest. They looked so small, so pathetically weak that I pondered whether to send them flying off the train with their suitcases whacking them in the ass as they went. I decided against it, however, as I saw Professor McGonagall marching towards me determinedly. I gave her a wide smile.

"Good morning Professor," I said, not meaning it. She'd grew uglier this year, a real old bat. The fact that she was practically snarling at me in a dog-like fashion didn't help. I knew what this was about.

"Mathew Creevy informed his brother Colin who informed me that you cast a spell on him that has resulted in bone damage. Is this true?"

"No Professor," I said, only half bothering to put on a truthful tone. "I've been sitting in my seat for the entire journey. Ask Pansy." I knew she'd cover for me. She'd fucking jump off of the moving train for me.

"The reliability of Miss Parkinson's word will not suffice as a proof of evidence, Mr Malfoy," she said, fumingly. "As it is merely your word against his however, I am forced to drop the complaint. But you had better believe that I shall be keeping a close eye on you this term, and woe betide you if Mr. Creevy has an injury that Madam Pomfrey cannot cure."

She pushed past me and I gave a half hearted shrug to myself. Who cares. So what if the little shit has a broken leg for the rest of his life. I have Leukaemia. I'm going to die. This little fact put a new perspective on things. What did anything matter? I was going to die. It was inevitable. I continued my journey along the train uncaringly, knocking people off their feet with various spells if they got in my way. I soon found myself in a sea of tacky red and gold robes and knew where I'd arrived. Sure enough, there, in the first carriage, was the golden trio themselves.

Granger still looked like a bushy-haired beaver. The mudblood was reading determinedly from a book, no doubt swotting up for the N.E.W.Ts this year. I wished she'd fail all her exams, it would probably send her into cardiac arrest. I chuckled as the image of her fainting when she saw her shit results popped into my mind, before it was burst as previous test results of hers flooded over the lovely thought.

She was sitting next to Weasley, who looked as cheap as ever with his patchy robe that didn't fit him properly. He was stuffing his face with food, causing the mudblood to look up from her book and give him a disgusted look. It looked like they were arguing now; his ears glowed up to a bright red matching the colour of his goofy hair. I hoped it would turn into a fight. I wouldn't know who to root for; I didn't know which one I hated the most.

But the golden boy ruined it. A few seemingly soothing words later and the pair were back to being friends. My body shook with rage as I watched him grinning, pleased with his handiwork. He thought he was so fucking special. It infuriated me that everyone loved and worshipped him. He was nothing good. He was nothing at all. He shouldn't even fucking _exist_. The dark lord should have vanquished him _before_ he was born. Should have aimed his wand right at his mother's bloated pregnant belly. Troubles over, no Potter, I win.

But he existed, and I hated the fact that I wouldn't for much longer. It was a fucker to admit, but whenever we came into competition with each other, he always came out better than me. Though I knew the art of researching your opponent thoroughly, Potter brought out a side of me that didn't care about plans, or carefulness, a side of me who just wanted to win, and I always ended up losing my temper around him and losing. The fact that I was now going to die before him meant he was going to win again. I couldn't take that.

I'd planned on bursting in there and provoking them into a fight, but the energy was drained from me now. Giving the carriage door a venomous last look, I turned and made me way back to my own carriage. We were still a while off, but I could do with some sleep...

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?" Pansy asked worriedly, lingering at the doors of the great hall. 

"Yes."

"But you didn't have anything to eat at all today, did you?"

"No."

"Don't you think you ought..."

"Don't you think you ought to mind your own fucking business and let me be?" I snapped, causing her to reel back in shock and blink rather stupidly. "If I was hungry I would eat, I'm not fucking stupid." Crabbe and Goyle caught my eye and I couldn't stop myself from taking a shot at them. "I'm not fucking stupid like these two," I said, indicating them. "They'd fucking overeat themselves even if they weren't hungry. Fat fuckers."

They didn't say anything and I sighed and walked off huffily. Nobody stands up to me. They just let me go on ruining their lives. It sounded stupid, but I wanted someone to ruin _my_ life. Make me feel bad. Make me feel a little less like a cunt that I was treating people like that. But nobody dared. I walked around the familiar twisting corridors. Nobody fucking dared stand up to me. I'd liked that for the first couple of years. I'd put up with it for the next couple of years. But for the last few years, it had gotten tedious.

The corridors turned an acidic green colour and the temperature plummeted to freezing point as I walked over to the entrance of the Slytherin common room.

"Passsssssssword," hissed the stone snake who guarded the door.

"Razalas Ressurected," I said impatiently. The snake didn't reply but uncoiled itself to let me climb through the hole. Stepping into the common room, I gave a sigh of relief as I saw I had it to myself. It wasn't anything special, especially compared to my private bedroom that father shelled out an extra few hundred thousand galleons for each year, but it was familiar and stable, and familiarity and stability were things I could go for now.

I settled down into a comfortable chair and relaxed. I was contented to listen to the sound of my own breathing for a while, watching my chest rise and fall. I tried to imagine the leukaemia swirling around inside of me, racing to get to the unaffected parts of my body first. I stopped breathing and my chest stood still. Take that you fucking shit, if I don't breathe, then you don't get to go on living either. My vision blurred as I continued to hold my breath, but I wouldn't budge. My body fought against me, trying to force me into breathing but I still denied oxygen from entering my body. Just when I thought I couldn't take any more and my surroundings were starting to go dizzy, my body gave a backlash, my resistance was defeated and sweet, poisonous oxygen flowed through my body once more.

I gave a single bitter sob as I imagined the leukaemia swirling gloriously around inside of me, laughing over the fact that it was beating me. A sharp pain made my arm suddenly convulse and I imagined its cruel snickers as it saw what it was doing to me. Tears fell more freely as I sobbed desperately. I looked around my surroundings wildly as though there would be a clue to help me beat it hiding somewhere, but it was hopeless. All I saw was green. The colour of envy. The colour of evil. The colour of illness.


	3. Bruises

_Life is a puzzle ... solve it_

_Life is a struggle ... fight it_

_Life is a journey ... complete it._

* * *

I felt constricted. Invisible ropes had bound themselves around me and I was finding it difficult to breathe as they cruelly squeezed more pressure onto my lungs. My arms were pinned to my sides helplessly and my legs were numb and deadweight. I was shivering although I was sweating, and I wanted to pull my bedcovers up to my chin and appreciate the warmth but I couldn't.

It wasn't the first time it happened. In fact, I can trace it happening back to almost a year ago. It wasn't so bad then; I'd just wake up cold, though my pillows were often dampened with sweat, roll over to pull my covers back up over me, wince slightly and wonder why my joints were so fucking achy and eventually get back to sleep, warm but sweating like mad.

Now, I was forced to stare at the ceiling helplessly, unable to even turn my head and _look _at my bedcovers on the floor. I cursed my dreaming body for kicking them off automatically. Then I cursed my fucking body for picking up the fucking illness in the first place. It was leaving me helpless like a fucking invalid. Malfoy's aren't meant to be helpless. They are strong and powerful people. My grandfather's father told my grandfather that, who told my father, who told me.

I suddenly froze. Shit. How would my family react to this? Me, a Malfoy, suffering from a _muggle _disease. The humiliation. The fucking humiliation. They'd sooner disown me then help me. Shit, _I'd _fucking disown me sooner than help me. It'd have to remain a secret, I couldn't have anyone knowing. Malfoy's do not associate with muggles and if we do, it is only to use them or torture them.

I must have lay there shivering for at least a couple of hours before soft morning light started appearing through my curtains. Birds were singing their chirpy cheery little songs, something that didn't help my mood one bit. Stupid feathered fuckers. I'd send Lynx after them when I had the chance. My owl could tear the shit out of those weak little things. I couldn't _stand_ the fact that anyone or anything was getting on with their lives oblivious to the fact that I was slowly dying. I didn't _want _anyone to know, but I wanted them to feel my pain, I wanted to be the one to make them feel my pain, I wanted to hurt the whole fucking world.

These bitter thoughts ran through my mind and with a surge of bold rebellion, I grit my teeth and pushed my body into a sitting position with my elbows. I shut my eyes and gasped audibly at the pain. My joints were hurting so fucking much. I took in some grateful gulps of air before preparing myself for the next challenge; swinging my legs out of bed. I almost cried out from the agony, but I bit my bottom lip hard and didn't release the puffy flesh from my tooth's grip until I felt a tiny river of blood seeping into my mouth from the cut.

I took in several more gasps of air before standing into a wobbly position. I stayed like that for a couple of minutes getting my wretched body used to the fact it was standing before walking slowly to the bathroom. It was worse in the mornings; by the time I had taken a bath and got ready for morning lessons, I'd be fine.

The trouble was however, I thought to myself as I hypnotically watched the bathtub fill up with soothing hot water, that I didn't know how long I'd be fine for. I could have apparently been living with this fucking disease inside of me for up to ten years. That's what that shitty pamphlet said. Although that might not be the case and it could have only just came, I didn't know how much pain I could take. I wanted to talk to someone, no, I _needed _to talk to someone. Not anyone I knew, but someone that would listen to my problems and nod sympathetically in the right places. As much as I despise sympathy, I had to admit it would feel good right now. I considered speaking to that doctor again, but his grave voice and sorrowful eyes would only make me feel worse and more of a diseased freak. Strange as it sounded, the less I was reminded about having this _thing _in me, the better I felt.

It reminded me it was in me again when my elbow seized up in pain as I turned the tap off. For fuck's sake, why did it have to be me? Of all the fucking people in the world, why did it have to be me? I didn't do anything to deserve this. The worst of it was the fact that I was suffering from a _muggle _disease. I felt so fucking worthless; the lowest of the low. I shook the thoughts out of my head and stripped off from my pyjamas. Joints cracked discernibly from every part of my body that was moving but I only continued to take off the garments faster. It was a sufficient punishment for the fact that I was suffering in the first place.

I lowered a foot tentatively into the bath. It took a split second before I realized it was too hot and took it out again quickly, itching like mad from the boiling water. I caught sight of my reflection in the full mirror suddenly, and I turned and saw my full body double staring back at me. I admired myself. I was fucking hot and I knew it. I wasn't built up like the bulky body frame of Crabbe or Goyle. True, I called them fat oafs but they had worked hard to turn their fat into bulging muscles over the last year. All the better to protect me with. But although I wasn't built, I wasn't skinny like Potter either. He was a fucking borderline anorexic with his skinny arms and legs. His eyes looked lost and sunken in his face.

Still, I had to admit I _had _lost weight. The doctor had asked me that before and I said I didn't know. I had suffered - and still suffered - a loss of my previously healthy appetite, but I didn't know if it had affected my weight. Upon measuring myself however, I observed that a couple of pounds had been lost. Still, what was a couple of pounds when I was the hottest guy in the school? I turned around and craned my neck to look at myself from behind. Nice ass. Yep, I was totally fuckable.

Which is why I was annoyed that I hadn't actually done it yet. I've never admitted this in a million years. From the age of fourteen I regaled an open-mouthed Zabini in tales of my imaginary sexual conquests and took great delight in watching Pansy's face fall each time I told it, adding more laborious touches to the fiction. But the truth was no such sex existed. As time went on, Zabini spoke of his conquests of spread-eagled sluts to me, and even Crabbe and Goyle started to bumbled on about their experiences. I could have got any girl in the school. Pansy had told me this once, over the breakfast table. She said it with a slight hint of poorly-concealed fear in her voice. I smirked and told her I already knew. I could have also gotten any guys in the school too. I wasn't that unconfident in thinking that I may not have been able to turn any straight guys around for the chance to do it with me. Hell, I could snap my fingers and the most macho of guys would be on his knees begging me to thrust my dick in his mouth. But I, as ungallant as it sounded, was scared of what my father would say. Or do.

I put my foot delicately in the bath again before sinking it fully in, thankful for the accommodating heat. I did the same with my other foot before sliding my whole body in, letting it absorb the warmth. It felt so fucking good. The pain from my joints faded into nothingness and I closed my eyes in bliss and gave a sigh of relief. I had at least another hour to soak before I had to get ready for school. This was heaven. Opening one eye lazily, I took a look at the mirror again. My reflection was lost now though. The steam from the bath had fogged it up completely, leaving me to look at a hazy imitation of myself. I couldn't see anything. I didn't exist anymore.

* * *

FUCK.

I choked and spluttered on the water. I'd told myself I'd only shut my eyes to rest them and I'd ended up fucking falling back to sleep. It was lucky that I did fucking breathe that water in or I could have slept for longer. I barely registered the dulled pain as I clambered out of the bath. The water did my body good anyway, it always did, and I only felt a mere fraction of the agony I felt this morning.

I didn't know what the time was, but I relaxed myself in the reassurance that I had double Potions first thing today and Snape wouldn't blink twice over the fact that I was late. It was for this reason that I didn't get ready any quicker and certainly didn't rush myself over my appearance. And it was for this reason that when I did eventually make it down to Potions, with only twenty minutes of the lesson left, I later learnt, I was greeted with a furious Snape.

I actually thought he was joking at first and I grinned humorously. He was boiling with suppressed rage and my smile faded. He couldn't possibly be taking this seriously?

"Mr. Malfoy," he said, through slightly gritted teeth. "Would you be so kind as to explain to me and the rest of the class why you are late this morning?"

Several fuckers from other houses tittered as they watched "Snape's favourite student" getting a taste of his sarcastic tongue.

"Well, er..." I started, the thought that he might be joking still in the back of my mind, before deciding to downplay the whole thing. "Actually," I restarted again coolly, "I was late because I was doing my hair. You can never rush perfection you know."

The audible gasp that rippled around the room alerted me that I might have gone too far. I considered apologising but Snape's fury didn't give me chance to. Thankfully, his anger wasn't directed at me.

"Potter," he barked, spinning on his heel and turning towards the golden boy, "Why is your potion green when it clearly states on the board that it should be purple?"

"I don't know," Potter mumbled stupidly, and I grinned at knowing what was going to come next. I even mouthed the words behind Snape's back.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your stupidity," he spat predictably, and with a flick of his wand, the contents in front of Potter vanished, leaving him sitting there glaring insolently at Snape. I hadn't expected him to add _for your stupidity_; he wasn't normally that obvious about his bullying of golden boy. I must have gotten him really riled up. I caught Potter staring at me and I couldn't resist sidling over to him and taking a shot.

"What a shame Potter," I hissed when I reached his table, "another fail for your collection. Why the fuck you took Potions in your N.E.W.T year, I don't know."

"Just ignore him Harry," Granger whispered next to him, "he's just trying to goad you into doing something stupid."

"Nobody asked your opinion you filthy fucking mudblood." I put emphasis on the last word and gleefully noticed Potter's shoulders stiffen.

"Harry, don't," said the mudblood in alarm, putting her hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

"Harry don't," I sang in a high mocking voice. "He won't do shit anyway," I said looking into his eyes. "He's a coward. He can't do anything but hide behind Dumbledore and that fucking scar." It wasn't working. Years of shit from me had caused him to take the high road and ignore my taunts. And that infuriated me. I wanted him to hurt, to at least let me see him flinch so I knew that I'd caused him pain. He was too together, too with it, while I was fucking falling to pieces, losing it all. I needed him to lose too.

"Got no answer? Didn't think so, because you know it's true. You hide behind that fucking scar because it's the only thing you can cling onto. And your friends cling onto it as well. Weasel boy - wherever the fuck he is - is so poor that he needs your scar as his claim to fame, and this bitch here," I gestured towards Granger, "thinks it'll get her further in her life as well. You haven't got any real friends Potter, and do you want to know why?"

He didn't answer, didn't even _register_ my words. I had to crank it up a notch to get a reaction.

"They don't want to fucking die. Because everyone you love dies don't they? There was Sirius, your good-for-nothing law-breaking shit of a godfather."

His shoulders stiffened again.

"There was Cedric, who died because you were so fucking noble and superior. I guess it was kind of your fault which makes you a murderer. Ironic, given who your godfather ... _was_."

His fists clenched.

"And then of course, your parents," I went on maliciously. I was vaguely aware that I might be going too far, but I felt like a completely different person that needed to get their rage out. The fact that Potter, my worst fucking enemy was sitting here, so ... _healthy _while I was dying fucking touched on all my nerves. He was going to win again. And so I went on with even more spitefulness. "Your parents died to save you when you were barely born. How must that _feel_? To know that you caused someone to _die _before you could even say a word? To know that they died while you went on living? That's selfish, Potter. You're an arrogant, selfish prick who deserves everything they fucking get. I hope the dark lord -"

I was pushed onto my back where the breath was knocked out of me. I barely had chance to catch my breath before Potter was on top of me, his face contorted into the definition of uncontrollable rage. His hands wrapped tightly around my throat. I looked groggily into his eyes and saw his teeth gritted into a snarl, spittle sliding down from his mouth. I could see the blurred figure of the mudblood standing over him, attempting to pull him away by his shoulders, and an even blurrier figure of Snape striding over ...

* * *

"Drakey, are you okay?" Pansy asked anxiously. Her pug-face was inches from mine and I turned my head and buried it into the pillow. I didn't know how I got back into my room and I didn't know why the _fuck_ she was here.

"Go away," I said in a muffled voice. "And don't fucking call me Drakey."

"Are you alright?" she asked again, seemingly oblivious to what I just said. She asked several more times, but I didn't answer as the hazy events came back to me. I felt Harry's grip being ripped away from my throat, and after that everything went black. He must have choked me too unconsciousness.

"Where the fuck were you?" I asked Pansy interrupting her constant bleating.

She stared and blinked at me stupidly. "What do you mean, Drake?"

"IT'S DRACO," I snarled making her recoil in fear, "and I said, 'where the fuck were you?' When I almost fucking died at the hands of Potter. And where were those two fat fuckers for that matter as well?"

She looked hurt and I was slightly gladdened. "We tried to stop him but by the time we realised what was going on, Snape had stopped it."

"Oh shut the fuck up," I said cutting her off, "I don't want to hear your crap. Get out."

"But Draco ..."

"SHUT UP AND GET OUT."

"Potter lost Gryffindor one hundred points," she said hurriedly, trying to placate me. I couldn't help but give a slight smirk as I imagined the crumpled faces of the Gryffindors. Pansy smirked too.

"GET THE FUCK OUT," I roared, and she timidly scuttled off the bed. I listened to the echoing door slam and her footsteps fading into inaudibility before deciding that I hated the silence. I sat up and gingerly touched my neck. It hurt even when I touched it with the softest of touches. Sitting up still feeling slight woozy, I made my way over to the mirror. Shit, I fucking had menacing looking bruises around my throat. If I looked carefully I could make out slight handprint marks where he choked me.

I was bruising all over the place these days, come to think of it. The weirdest thing was there was no reason why I was so black and blue. I knocked my arm against the wall the other day. I didn't even _register _any pain, that's how slight it was, yet a large, ugly purple bruise appeared in the spot and was now only just beginning to disappear.

My eyes wandered from my reflection as I listened to the chimes in the distance. A lesson change. My timetable told me that my next lesson was Muggle Studies. There were two lessons in-between that and Potions. Fuck, I must have been knocked out for a while. And Pansy must have been sitting with me the whole time, I thought grimly.

I took one last look in the mirror. But instead of feeling hot, I felt like shit. I didn't _want _to feel bad, but I fucking did. I quickly pushed both of my thumbs into the bruises on my throat. I howled from the pain but I increased the pressure.

_Potter's caused this, Potter did this, Potter's hurting you, Potter gave you the pain._

I stopped and breathed heavily. Potter fucking hurt me again. He'd fucking won. _Again_.

* * *

I strolled bitterly down to muggle studies. I couldn't _stand _this lesson. My father made me choose it though. He thought it would make him look less suspicious to the wizarding association for any cases of unforgiving curses being used on muggles. I couldn't care less. Stupid fucking worthless creatures. _They'd _given me this disease. It was theirs. It was incurable from spells and I fucking hated them for giving it to me. I would love to annihilate them all and watch them suffer, to watch them writhe and squirm under crucacius.

I pushed open the door and didn't bother hiding the fact that I didn't care that Professor Pifflin was reprimanding me for being late. I even yawned in his face - that had deducted five points from Slytherin for insolence. I saw the fucking mudblood smirking at me from her seat. I'd forgotten she was in this class. I don't know why she was smirking when Gryffindor's beloved golden boy had lost them a hundred and ten points in one day.

When Pifflin had finished his lecture, I sat down heavily in my seat and took a look at the parchment that magically appeared in front of me. My heart froze and I felt slightly sick as I read the bold title at the top. I kept re-reading it over and over, as if it would suddenly change into other words if I really wished it hard enough, but no such luck. The words were staying the same.

And they told me that this term, we would be studying muggle medicines and illness.

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, and everyone who reads this and reviews. I appreciate all reviews, whether good or bad, though pointless and pathetic flames will be ignored. Thank you, love Jordan x x**


	4. Learning

_Time is shortening..._

_...but every day that is fought for and lived is a victory._

* * *

If I wasn't aching in every single part of my body that could possibly ache, I would have been tossing and turning in bed. It was the early hours of Tuesday morning which unfortunately meant the inevitable Muggle Studies lesson. True, I'd had three now and in each one we hadn't touched upon the subject of illnesses that related to mine, but I still broke out into a cold sweat every time the lesson was mentioned or thought of.

I'd tried to get out of it. I spoke to Professor Pifflin who primly reminded me that _I _was the one who chose the course and so it wasn't convenient for me to drop it. Fucking asshole. I went to Dumbledore to see if he'd say anything different, but he spoke to me in that slow fucking wheezing voice he has and told me I couldn't change either. So I was stuck in this fucking class never knowing if we were going to touch upon Leukaemia, which is why I was always awake stressing out about the upcoming lesson the next morning, which is why I could never sleep on a Monday night, which is why I was always extra irritable on Tuesdays.

I lay there for what seemed like a couple more hours before I heard Lynx's wings flapping in the distance. The noise of her wings grew louder as she drew closer. She finally made an appearance, landing gracefully on the ledge before perching herself on the windowsill, hooting expectantly. I eased myself out of bed slowly, taking much longer than I had done last week. Lynx was patient enough though, understanding that her owner wasn't feeling his best.

I shuffled over to the cupboard on the opposite side of my room. This was a routine every morning; Lynx would wake me up and I would feed her. It was really for my benefit more than hers - every week I needed to wake up a little bit earlier as my condition got worse and it took me longer to get ready in the mornings. I bent down slowly towards the cupboard before straightening up again, gritting my teeth, drawing a breath painfully. A few tears welled up in my eyes and I blinked them away angrily. I was not going to fucking cry over this.

"Lynx, come over here," I said, jerking my head towards the cupboard. Lynx glided across the room elegantly and landed neatly on top of the cupboard, watching me with her big brown eyes. "I can't reach in there to give you a treat. Do you think you'll be able to get it yourself?"

She gave a single affirmative hoot, hopped down from the cupboard and went inside. She was in there for a couple of minutes shuffling around, before coming back out, half a biscuit in her beak. She flew back up to the top of the cupboard and waited for my approval.

"Yes," I nodded. "You can have it all, you beautiful, clever bird." I stroked her feathers while she ruffled them out proudly, succumbing to my stroking. "Beautiful, beautiful bird," I whispered hypnotically, still praising her with rhythmic strokes. She pecked at the biscuit, breaking it down into smaller crumbs, before nipping at a morsel and swallowing it appreciatively. She ate a second crumb before looking up at me, hooting questioningly.

I gave her a small smile. "I'm not up to scratch Lynx. I'm slowing down and I'm not going to get any faster. You understand that, right?" Lynx responded by flicking a crumb of biscuit at my fingers and hooting dolefully. She understood.

* * *

"Aren't you glad I transferred into this lesson with you?" Pansy asked me, anxiously waiting my approval. I neither confirmed nor gave her a rejected answer as we walked through the corridors to Muggle Studies. Although I _was _slightly glad that she was in this class because she'd hopefully take my mind off of the worry I always had before the lesson began, I didn't want to give her any praise for it. If I did that, she'd be in all my fucking classes before I could stop her, and Pansy Parkinson twenty four hours a day was too much for anyone. I don't even know how _she _lived with herself.

"Drakey?" she asked again. She never knew when to keep her fat mouth shut.

"My name is Draco," I said in a dangerously calm voice. I hoped she'd get the message but she blundered on with her usual stupidness.

"Sorry Drake...o," she quickly added. "Aren't you glad that I transferred into this class with you? Now you won't have to learn about boring Muggles by yourself! As if we want to know about their illnesses! Like they affect us!"

"No, I hate the fact that you transferred to this class," I suddenly snapped. She blinked in surprise.

"But Drakey, I thought you'd appreciate -"

"Appreciate? APPRECIATE WHAT?" I exploded. "Appreciate the fact that everywhere I turn your ugly pug snout will be snorting in my face? Yeah, like that's something I'm going to welcome."

She was visibly hurt, but she didn't say anything. I couldn't contain my anger.

"SAY SOMETHING," I roared. "Hurt me, hit me, insult me, just do something. Why are you just standing there taking what I'm saying to you? Do you get off on it?"

She sniffed, a few tears coming into her eyes.

"Oh, go on cry, fucking cry! Cry me a river, I don't give a shit for crocodile tears, you know that," I spat.

Pansy tried to link her arm through mine. "Drakey, I know you don't mean what you're -"

I yanked my arm away sharply, causing it to seize up in horrific pain like I'd never felt before. A small, desperate cry escaped my lips and Pansy's features contorted into concern. She halted to a stop next to me.

"What's wrong, Drake?"

"DRACO," I screamed, clutching my arm. "My fucking name is DRACO. And guess what? Draco doesn't want you here, and neither does Drakey or Drake for that matter. Now do me a favour and fuck off back to the hole that you crawled out of because I'm just about sick of you causing me so much ... shit." I stopped myself from saying pain just in time.

She didn't move and continued to stare at me blankly. "You don't mean that," she said finally.

"I DO," I shouted. "I mean every word I fucking say, just leave me alone!" She stared at me for a further few seconds before taking two steps back.

"I'll give you some alone time for a couple of minutes if that's what you want," she said decidedly. I opened my mouth before realising it was wasted breath and settled for biting down and chewing on my lip hard. How could one person be so fucking annoying?

* * *

"Is the amount of work you have to do Draco? I'm so surprised, I thought Muggle Studies was meant to be an easy class. Isn't that why you took it? You didn't actually tell me _why _you took it, but that's what I assumed. Why do we need to learn about muggles anyway, they're not that important to devote a whole lesson around them. Still, if it gets up top marks then I suppose they have just a _small _purpose in life. Don't you agree?"

Pansy wouldn't fucking shut up, no matter how much I snapped at her. She was sitting far too close for comfort. I protested my annoyance but she hadn't noticed as she'd bunged all her stuff onto the table next to mine with a grin. I covered my ears with my hands but she didn't seem to notice as she took a deep breath and continued her babbling.

"Of course, if I had it my way, I'd just give top marks to all pure-bloods because it's obvious that we _know _all the stuff anyway. It's the mudbloods and the half bloods that should have to do all these stupid exams, they're the ones that have to prove something. I think ... "

A pain throbbed in my head and I knew a headache was going to arrive soon. Why couldn't Pansy just shut up?

"... which is really stupid, because I said to Professor McGonagall that I wanted to change and she tried to get me to change my mind. I just did my little simpering act and she brought it, the old fool. So then what happened ..."

Pain tattooed against my skull like a beating drum. The pounding was hurting so much that I couldn't even tell Pansy to shut up. I groaned softly, hoping that it would distract her from her jabbering and she'd elicit some sympathy towards me but she didn't hear as she continued her mindless chatter. I bent my head down onto the desk and covered my face with my arms.

"... and I said to her, 'how could _you _possibly be an auror, Millicent?' I mean, have you _seen _her grades? You must have seen them, they're so low, Drake. Drake? Draco?"

I was vaguely aware of her shaking my arm. "What?" I moaned softly.

"Are you alright?"

"No."

"What's the matter?" she asked worriedly. I didn't answer, it was too much effort. "Drake, what's the matter?" she asked again, shaking my arm. "Tell me." She tried to prise my arms away so she could look at me, but I grunted irritably and she stopped. "Draco, I'm worried." I suddenly lifted up my head and stared at her through venomous eyes.

"It's just a fucking headache calm down you stupid bitch," I snapped in one breath. Pansy looked crestfallen.

"I was only worried about you," she said softly. If she was trying to make me feel bad, it didn't work.

"Well don't be," I replied shortly. My head still felt like it was in a blender but I formed a normal expression as I could on my face and pretended there was nothing wrong. It was only then I noticed that people were staring at me.

"What?" I asked sharply. "WHAT?" They turned away hurriedly.

"If you continue to talk to people like that, nobody's going to be friends with you," said a voice from behind me. I turned and saw Granger standing there with her arms folded, looking like a fucking ratbag.

"Fuck you," I spat, "what business of it is yours?"

"Yeah," interjected Pansy. "What business of it is yours, Granger?"

"It isn't," she replied coolly, ignoring Pansy, "I just thought I'd offer my opinion."

"It isn't wanted," I said dismissively.

"Yeah," said Pansy, "It isn't wanted Granger. So why don't you just go and revise for an exam? You'll fail if you don't."

Granger raised an amused eyebrow. "You would know," she said and walked over to her seat at the front of the class. Pansy huffed.

"She thinks she's so clever," she fumed. "She thinks that just because -"

"Good afternoon class," said Pifflin, sweeping into the room cutting Pansy's rant short. I'd never been so grateful to see him enter a room in my life. All the same, however grateful I was that he had the power to shut Pansy up, the silence in the classroom was only too keen to remind me that another lesson of Muggle Studies was about to start, and the familiar butterflies started to flutter around in my stomach.

_Get a grip, I commanded myself furiously._ I did this every lesson; got myself worked up into a frenzy and found that there wasn't anything to worry about.

"Today we will be continuing our studies of Muggle illnesses," Pifflin announced. "Today's topic is in on your desk ..." I looked down and sixteen inches of parchment appeared in front of me. " ... expect you to read it in no less than fifteen minutes."

The silence was broken as everyone unrolled their parchments noisily. "In silence," old Pifflin whined. I unrolled mine half-heartedly. The title at the top made my heart turn to ice and a cold shiver ran down my spine.

Leukaemia.

I was frozen to my seat, unable to do anything. I stayed in that position for about five minutes, not knowing what to think. _Fucking Pifflin, why did he fucking choose this? No, fucking Hogwarts, why did they do this as a lesson? No, fucking muggles, because if it wasn't for them I wouldn't have this fucking shit inside of me. _I dared to glance around the classroom carefully, expecting everyone to be staring at me with looks of horror on their faces. Nobody was doing anything out of the ordinary; they were just reading it with mild looks of interest on their faces. I relaxed and started to do the same.

I was only half way through when I heard smothered giggling from next to me. I turned to Pansy and saw her trying to hold her laughter in, tears streaming down her face. Her laughter was not contagious, it just made her look more repulsive and I turned away in disgust and carried on reading. I was taking it all in very carefully and only read about four more lines after that before Pifflin told us to stop reading.

"Now, who can tell me what Leukaemia is?" he asked. Granger's hand shot up predictably. He nodded questioningly.

"Leukaemia is a type of cancer which affects the blood cells. It is the 12th most common cancer in adults, though it affects more men than women. It is also the most common cancer in children," she said in her stupid fucking superior voice.

"Good girl, take five points for Gryffindor," Pifflin said. "And who can tell me the two main types of Leukaemia?" Again, her hand shot up into the air.

"Acute and chronic," she answered. Before he could ask the next question, she rambled on. "Acute leukaemia tends to affect younger people. The symptoms develop rapidly, and it can quite quickly become life-threatening if not treated straight away. Chronic leukaemia tends to affect older people. The disease gets worse slowly and has a more prolonged progression."

"Take another five," Pifflin smiled. "Yes, Miss Granger has explained the two common types perfectly. Of course, there _are _others, but we wont divulge into too much about them. Now, we don't exactly know what causes the illness, though some say ..."

I began to take interest in spite of my earlier fears. Pifflin, with the aid of the fucking mudblood shouting her opinions every five seconds, explained it all pretty well, and I have to admit that I had new found admiration for the old guy. He lessened my fears at least. Pansy nudged me. She was still giggling. "Hey Drake," she whispered. I ignored her. I wanted to pay attention to the lesson. "Drake," she hissed again.

"Shut up," I whispered shortly. Instead of being offended she merely collapsed into a fresh fit of giggles. Something was seriously wrong with that girl.

It was almost time for the end of the lesson and I was almost sad that it was drawing to a close. Part of me was thankful that we hadn't touched upon anything too close to home, but as a whole, the lesson was enlightening. I was more well prepared to take down this fucking disease now.

"Are there any questions?" Pifflin asked. To my surprise, Pansy's hand went up. I glanced at her quizzically but she just grinned and giggled some more.

"Yes, Miss Parkinson?" Pifflin asked. Pansy couldn't get the question out at first from laughing so much, but she finally swallowed and asked her question all in one breath.

"Professor, do _all _of the people that have leauky...thing look like _this_?" She pointed to a picture at the bottom of the parchment that I hadn't had chance to see. In it, a young muggle boy I could only presume, suffering from leukaemia was waving smilingly. He looked perfectly normal save for his bald head that gave him a really ill, suffering look.

"Hair loss is natural when prescribed the necessary drug treatment," Pifflin explained patiently. "Chemotherapy can sometimes result ..."

"But he looks so _stupid_!" Pansy screeched. "He looks like a freak!" She went into fresh peals of laughter and my heart turned to ice once more as more people in the class started to snicker.

"He looks like an egg," some Gryffindor smirked. I shot her a murderous glare but she didn't notice.

"If I was him, I'd want to die than ever look like that!" Pansy laughed loudly. I wanted to say something cutting to her, to everyone that was laughing, but I didn't know what. This was basically _me_ that they were laughing at. I'd never experienced anyone making fun of me before. It wasn't a nice feeling.

"SHUT UP," someone suddenly yelled. It was so silent you could have heard a pin drop. Everyone turned to the direction of the voice and saw a slightly trembling Granger standing next to her desk, staring viciously at Pansy

She opened and closed her mouth stupidly, trying to think of a snappy comeback. "Who do you think you are?" she said finally.

"Who do you think _you _are?" Granger seethed, her eyes flashing dangerously. "If you was him you'd rather die? Do you know how much sufferers fight every day to battle against this illness?"

"Miss Granger, please sit down," Pifflin said, but she ignored him. I watched, transfixed.

"Do you know how much they fight only for some stupid ... _bitch _like you to say that?" she continued. Pansy stood up too.

"How _dare_ you," she began furiously but Granger cut her off.

"HOW _DARE_ YOU!" she shouted, marching over to her.

"Girls, calm down," Pifflin cried desperately, scared that a fight would break out between the two. Both ignored him and Granger continued, just inches away from Pansy.

"How dare you be that insensitive to something you know NOTHING about." She shook her head disgustedly. "I hope you never suffer from Leukaemia. I hope you'll never experience the heartache that some families go through. I've been there first hand. My aunt beat it a couple of years ago, but to watch her fall so ill to something that isn't always curable was ..." she took a deep breath. "It was hard. It was _so _hard. And I hope you never have to go through it. I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

"I wish it on you," Pansy spat spitefully.

Granger suddenly slapped her round the face so hard Pansy was flung back down into her seat. Her hand flew to her cheek and her mouth dropped open. Tears welled up in her eyes and she looked stupidly at Granger, then to me, and then around the class. Nobody did or said anything, and it wasn't until hearing noise outside that we knew that the lesson was over.

"Er ... We'll continue this next week, a different subject however. There'll be no homework," Pifflin said hurriedly, gathering up his things from his desk and exiting the classroom quickly. Granger walked over to her desk and gathered up her things. She turned to the door and left without saying a word, though she never took her eyes off of Pansy, who shrank into me afraid. I pushed her away suddenly so hard that she fell off the chair into a crumpled heap on the floor. She hardly noticed.

"Did you _hear _what she said to me?" Pansy cried. I stood up and towered over her.

"You disgusting cunt," I spat. Pansy's eyes goggled in open-mouthed shock. "Don't ever fucking speak to me again."

She didn't reply at all as I gathered up my things and left the classroom. The corridors were full of little kids and I threatened hexes on the ones that wouldn't move out of my way when I shouted at them. I walked determinedly to the end of the corridor and turned left. I paced quickly to the Left Wing moving staircases and waited for a stairwell to take me to the location I wanted to go.

The Gryffindor common room.

* * *

**Another chapter gone by! I love planning out stories before I write them because I know exactly how it's going to turn out! Let me quickly answer some questions that have been asked:**

Yep, the story is slash!

It _may _be between Draco and Harry.

Hermione will not just "figure out" Draco's illness.

**And to answer some questions that might be asked after this chapter:**

This is not a Draco/Hermione fic.

Hermione does _not _have leukaemia.

**Can I also thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and say a special thank you to **_Chaney _**who really made me happy by telling me that she was reluctant at first, but the story turned her around, and also to **_MelaminEstel _**whose review almost made me cry and made my day so much better!**

**I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter and please review! Thank you very much! Love Jordan xx**


	5. Solo

_I'm so empty inside_

_and my tears, I can't hide..._

_...So I'll hurt to take away the pain._

* * *

I threatened myself with a premature death, but it was no use - my arm was raising on it's own accord and my fist rapped sharply on the unoccupied painting that guarded the Gryffindor common room. I drew my arm back quickly and positioned it next to my side. That looked overtly obvious, so I stuffed it into my pocket and leaned against the wall. No, that looked too posed as well. I put my hands on my hips before repositioning them so my arms were folded. There, I looked cool. And just in time too, because a fat lady with an extremely red face came panting into the picture.

"Password?" she wheezed, sounding like she'd just completed a ten mile run. To the nearest bakery and back, more like.

"I don't know, I just want entrance," I replied matter-of-factly. She stopped breathing heavily, her face instead contorted into an expression of someone who had just witnessed a murder taking place.

"You ... You want entrance without ... _knowing the password_?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Yeah," I replied defensively. Against my best interests, I added, "Is that a problem?"

Her shock was replaced with haughtiness as she encountered my rudeness. "I'm afraid that is against regulations," she replied in an affected tone. "Nobody gains entrance to this room without knowing the password."

This bitch was beginning to test my patience and it took every bit of willpower not to retort back. Instead, I took a deep breath and counted to five silently. I then smiled widely. She smiled too, no doubt knowing what was coming.

"May I _please _enter? I need to speak with someone. It's very, _very _urgent," I said, flash smile still plastered on my mouth. So was hers.

"I'm afraid you may _not _enter. It is most unfortunate that you have a hearing problem, so I'll repeat what I said to you earlier. _Nobody _gains entrance to this room without knowing the password." Her sickly sweet tones faded as she added, "Not even a most arrogant person like yourself."

"Listen," I spat angrily, losing my patience with this fucker. "I need to get in there to talk to someone about something important. Now if you don't let me in, your precious frame will end up in flames, got it?"

She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. I plunged my hand into my robe pocket and drew out my wand, pointing it at her threateningly. She snorted in an amused manner. I had _Ignitio _on the tip of my tongue.

"I'll say it for the last time, my _dear boy_," she informed me in a smooth voice. "Nobody gains entrance to this room without -"

"Look I'm getting in one way or another, it'll just save you a fiery death if you complied with my orders," I shouted angrily.

"Orders?" she fumed back. I'd touched a nerve. "Orders? Listen young man, I control who gains entrance to this room, _I _give out the orders! I don't let just anyone in, _especially _not anyone who arrogantly commands me like you. Now be off with you before I inform my fellow portraits to give you the utmost grief whenever you pass them."

"I'll command who I like, when I like and how I like," I roared. "If you think I'm going to listen to some ... Stupid, fat old fool like you, think again. Now for the last time, let me in before I -"

"Before you what, Mr. Malfoy?"

I spun around and found myself face to face with McGonagall. She was staring at me coldly.

"Well?" she asked, folding her arms and raising a dagger-like eyebrow. I didn't respond, I didn't know what to say. Someone else had plenty to say on the matter though.

"That arrogant little boy threatened me with violence," the snitch announced importantly. "He said that if I didn't give him entrance to the room _this instant_ he'd set my frame on fire."

McGonagall nodded at the fat bitch and turned back to me. "I don't suppose you have an elaborate counter-argument do you, Mr. Malfoy?"

I had three working overtime in my head. Like spiders webs, they were individually weaving themselves into strong stories; definite excuses that would get me out of the situation I was faced in. But I don't know what it was. It might have been the fact that McGonagall was gazing at me in the most disapproving of manners. It may have been the fat lady's unconcealed gloating. It could have even been that I was tired and didn't want to put up a tough front anymore. Whatever it was, I didn't bother to use fiction. I didn't even bother to respond, I just gave a half-hearted shrug.

"And how am I meant to decipher that offhand gesture, Mr. Malfoy?" old McGonagall asked. "I ask you again, is it true?"

I gave a single, affirmative nod. She couldn't hide the initial surprise on her face but she quickly recovered her expressionless expression.

"Right then, follow me," she said, marching down the corridor, heels clicking on the stone floor. I trudged along behind her. The fat lady gave triumphant smirks.

"Make sure he's punished well," she said, following us through her neighbours portraits. "Have him clean some frames. Have him learn some respect for the portraits in the school. He doesn't know how hard it is doing what we do. He needs to learn that we don't just open up doors for anyone. Might I suggest you teach him a lesson by -"

"That'll do, Beatrice," McGonagall called over her shoulder without stopping.

* * *

A weeks worth of detentions for threats of defacing school property. Stupid bitch. Like I care about shitty detentions anyway. I don't care about anything any more. It's like the life's been sucked out of me. With a slight chill I wondered whether this is what being a resident of Azkaban felt like. I walked lifelessly across the school grounds, kicking empty cartons of pumpkin juice whenever I passed one. I was poisonous. I was actually poisonous. My body was damaged and my soul tainted. I was inevitably going to die. I _knew _this was what being a resident of Azkaban felt like.

Fuck, I _had _to find her. I don't know why I was so desperate, Pifflin had said over and over again that there was no known cure for it. But I held on to a last shred of hope that she'd know something that he'd forgot to mention. Having her aunt go through it, she'd have gone through first hand experience. That must be more insightful than any information a text book could carry, mustn't it? I needed to find a way of asking her about it without her getting too suspicious, though. More importantly, I needed to actually find her first ...

... Which proved to be much easier than expected. Fate had decided that it had dealt me enough unfortunate cards for today and let me take a short cut. Presented in front of me, sitting reading a book and partially hidden by a tree was Granger. I took a step towards her before hesitating. How do I approach this situation? Too late; she turned around and saw me hovering a couple of metres behind her. She snapped the book shut and stood up defensively.

"What do you want?" she snapped in an obviously bad mood. And I wanted to tell her what I wanted. I _so _wanted to tell her that I was lost and needing help. That I was begging for her knowledge to help me out of this sticky situation. Just to tell her that I needed to hear comforting words from someone who had been through this shit. Just to tell her that I hated the illness just as much as she did, that I was suffering just like her aunt did, and more importantly, probably like she did too. Just to tell her that I understood what it felt like to die from inside, knowing that every breath I took fuelled the leukaemia, making it stronger, easier for it to spread around and touch the parts of my body that had managed to survive for this long yet slowly and sadly becoming toxic too. Just to tell her that I needed a friend.

But I was a Malfoy. Never before have I been ashamed to say, or even think that. But right now I was. Because it stopped me from saying how I really felt. It knotted my true feelings rigid and replaced them with bitter words that I didn't mean.

"Don't take that tone with me, mudblood," I snarled, inwardly taking back every word I uttered. "You forget your place sometimes. I wouldn't want _anything _from you."

"What is your problem?" Granger exploded, hating me as much as I hated myself. "You come over to me and then insult me? What the hell have I ever done to you? I just want to get on with my revision without having this shit thrown in my face, alright?"

And I wanted to apologise. To tell her I was sorry for being such a bastard. And the words were on the verge of rolling from my tongue. But the Malfoy name snatched them back and replaced them with acidic improvements.

"What have you done to me?" I spat, answering her question. "Living for a start. I hate your guts you fucking cunt. You're a mudblood, therefore, you are shit. No, worse than shit. You shouldn't even exist on this planet, I wish you'd drop dead and die." I turned cold as I knew what was coming next. I begged my mind not to comply but it didn't listen, it was commanded by the Malfoy name. I pleaded with my vocal cords to break down and stop working, but they were being controlled by the same source of higher power, and the next words tumbled out in a choked voice. "Pansy's right. I wish you'd suffer from leukaemia."

I howled inside. I wanted to hurt myself, to grab a knife and slash my throat and wrists and every other part of my body I could touch because I didn't deserve anything less. I was the worst fucking human being in the world. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it, and how I wish I could have told her this, to stop the soft flow of tears running down her cheeks unashamedly. She didn't hit me or insult me back, she stayed rooted to the spot, unable to do anything other in stunned sadness that someone could be so fucking cruel. I was the one that could be so fucking cruel.

"Yeah, well, I'm going now," I concluded spitefully. "Cry harder." I turned on my heel, a stream of my own tears cascading down my cheeks.

* * *

I was hurting. Outside and in. Hurting outside was my body, a former shell of the strong life it once led. Now my joints were seized up and locked into a painful position. But I couldn't feel it because of the hurting from inside. My soul. I felt numb, like I'd lost all feeling of my character. I knew that wasn't entirely true, witnessing again the tears of Granger as the scene continue to replay itself in my mind. It had been doing it all day, and now, at night and all alone with no distractions, it was worse. I felt a vague bruise pulsating with pain and willed it to hurt me harder. I deserved every ounce of shit I got. I _deserved _leukaemia. It made a right choice when picking me as its host to carry out its evilness. It must have saw something similar in me than it had in itself; we both caused devastating pain with devastating consequences.

I don't remember falling to sleep, but I must have done because I work up sweating like mad. The sheets from my bed had been kicked off as usual, and although I felt like I was in a boiler room, I still wanted to wrap them around me; I felt cold inside too. More importantly, I couldn't breathe.

Well of _course _I could breathe. But it was hard. Oxygen was inhaled into my body through short, sharp, rasping and desperate breaths. I flung my arm outwards, trying to grab hold of something that would help me but my hand reached out onto nothingness. I attempted to sit up, using every bit of faded strength I had to prop up my body with my elbows, before falling back down with submission. My head pounded excruciatingly, so much that I thought I would throw up from the pain. I felt a sickening feeling stirring in the pit of my stomach and lying down wasn't helping matters. With an audible groan I forced myself into a sitting position. Air flowed more easily now, though not half as much as I needed. It was beginning to make me feel faint and small specks of white light danced and flickered in front of my eyes from lack of oxygen.

I rolled out of bed and stumbled into a standing position. My legs wobbled dangerously and threatened to give way but they did well and carried me, one shuffling foot at a time to my door. I leant heavily on the door handle and stopped, most of the energy taken out of me. I breathed faster, not getting enough air and my vision continued to blur. I was so hot sweat was trickling down my forehead now, but I was shivering uncontrollably. I tightened my grip on the door handle as my whole room slid sideways but it was to no avail and I crashed out onto the floor.

* * *

"You look like you've been in a fight with a rhinoceros, Drake!" Pansy said in awe, looking at my face.

"You _look _like a rhinoceros," I snapped, buttering my toast so hard that I was cutting into it. Her words _were _true though, I looked terrible. I woke up this morning and found myself in the same position as I fainted in last night and the events came flooding back to me. I lay there for a while, glad that it was easier to breathe and deciding that nights were definitely more difficult to get through than days. I struggled into a standing position and found myself face to face with my reflection. To my horror my face had two large, ugly purple bruises on it - one on my forehead and one just above my chin. I touched them delicately but even the simplest of touches made me wince. Summoning my wand to me, I tried in vain to conceal them but it didn't work. No, these were bruises gave to me from something that magic couldn't prevent.

"They just look so _awful_," Pansy continued, staring in utmost disbelief. "Not that you look awful or anything," she added hastily, seeing the fuming scowl on my face. I didn't answer and carried on buttering my toast.

"Sure you've got enough butter on there, Drake?" Blaise grinned. I looked at my toast, slightly bewildered. I'd buttered it so much that a melted butter river was flowing freely from all sides of the toast onto my plate and slowly oozing down the front of my robes. Everyone nearest giggled and I'd had enough.

"Fuck you," I snarled, throwing my knife down with a clatter. Blaise looked taken aback. "Is it any of your fucking business how much butter I put on my toast?"

"Drake, it was just a joke, no need to get mad over -"

"MY NAME ISN'T DRAKE." The whole hall practically turned around from their breakfast and watched my little outburst at this shout but I didn't care. "Don't fucking call me Drake," I continued, lowering my voice to a hiss. "Or Drakey," I snapped, throwing a venomous look at Pansy who squirmed uncomfortably. I huffed and threw myself into the back of my seat and folded my arms. Nobody said anything for a while, knowing how foul of a mood I was in. But there's always one person beyond stupidity, always one person who doesn't know how to tread carefully.

"Draco... Aren't you going to eat your toast?" Pansy asked timidly.

"No."

"...Well ... Are you going to eat anything? I mean, you just look so _unwell_."

I shifted position in my seat, willing her to shut her fat mouth.

"You're starting to look _skeletal_," she whispered, "like Potter."

I pulled out my wand and waved it across the length of the table. At once, all the cutlery; the plates, the cups, the knifes, forks and spoons flew into the air and shattered together, erupting in a shower of glass over the hall. As it sharply descended to a mass of screams, I waved it again and the falling debris of the mess I'd made disappeared as quickly as I had created it. I stared around the hall calmly.

You could have heard a pin drop, so you could have definitely heard McGonagall's screech from the staff table. Her hoarse voice screamed at me to wait outside her office. I glumly got up and walked out without saying a word. Eyes followed my path and I hastened my walk quicker as I started to feel the easy tears come into my eyes.

Malfoy's never cry. My father told me that when I was young. _His_ father taught him when he was young, and his father's father taught _his_ father. I was six when Gregory Branch told me he would use his older brother's wand to let a monster loose in my room while I slept. I was so terrified that when I arrived at home I ran straight into my father's open arms.

"Drake, what's wrong?" he asked concernedly, holding me at arms length and examining me. Through racketing sobs and big gulps I told him everything that had happened. He sighed and gave me a reassuring hug, telling me that Gregory wouldn't do that. That he was just lying to get me scared, but if it made me feel any better, _he'd _let a monster loose into his bedroom. I'd giggled naively. My father was nothing short of a superhero through my childhood eyes.

I walked faster to McGonagall's office, willing this memory away, but it continued to play out.

"But," he said, holding me at arms length again, "there's something that I have to tell you, Drake." He sat me on his knee and said, no plainer: "Malfoy's never cry." I gave another sniff, breaking the rule he'd just told me. Wiping away my tears, he repeated the motto. "Malfoy's never cry. Even in private. We must always hold our heads high, Drakey. We must toy with other people's emotions to control our own better. We have a reputation to protect, which is why we must _never cry_. Do you understand?"

I nodded and wiped away my tears with a balled up fist. "Never cry," I repeated. Father broke into a grin. "That's my boy," he smiled.

And now, here I was, breaking the rule. That was the last time that my parents had called me by my nicknames; Drake or Drakey. I guess the little talk between us signalled the start of me becoming a man. Which was why I couldn't bear it when I heard anybody calling it me. It reminded me of that day. It reminded me that Malfoy's shouldn't cry and it reminded me that I was breaking my father's promise with every tear I shed.

I turned the corner, wiping away the last of my tears and knocked full force into someone.

Potter.

"Watch where you're fucking going," I spat. Potter bunched his fists. I hadn't seen him face to face since the fight in Potions class, and hadn't seen him at all since Pansy and I had both fought with Granger on separate occasions. I expected him to punch me in the gut and I didn't bother tensing myself up for it. I let him aim at a free shot.

But his fists unformed and his features became concerned as he took me in with his eyes. I narrowed them in confusion before realizing he was looking at my face.

"What the hell are you looking at you fucking prick?" I snarled. Potter sighed wearily.

"I was just wondering if you're okay," he said flatly.

I'm not. I'm not fucking okay, and I wanted to scream it at him. To yell it in his ear until my voice was hoarse and he was deaf. To cut open my wrists and watch the infected blood seep out of the wounds and show them, stick them in his face and smear the tainted infection across his mouth. Do I fucking look alright, Potter? Is this the sign of someone that looks like everything in life is going okay? Do I look _healthy_? Do I look like I'm going to undoubtedly die? Does it look like that every second you live your happy fucking life, I'm fucking losing mine?

"Of course I'm okay," I snapped.

He shrugged half-heartedly. "You just look a little sad, that's all," he said jadedly.

He cares. And I hate him but I want to thank him, for being the one person that noticed. I want to hex him into oblivion while giving him a friendly hug and whispering how much it meant to me. I want him to fucking drop dead and die so I can sit on his grave and tell him how much that one line changed my opinion of him forever.

"Well I'm not so mind your own fucking business," I said shortly.

He turned on his heel without saying a word and I turned on mine.

I bring it all on myself.

* * *

**Another chapter down! First of all, can I thank **_Chaney, Sheree, Yo, GenX-revolution, M'Lady, Jaina2, hokuspokus, ura-hd, Lyra Skywalker, AstheyreFalling and lloneke_**for their reviews, which I always appreciate and welcome of course!! **

**Also can I thank **_draggy2 _**who was honest enough for her truthful opinion on my story. And to be honest, I slowed the swearing down in the last couple of chapters because it shows where Draco is at, and where he's heading. In the beginning, he was scared and confused and didn't know what was going on whereas now, he's not in a better position, but has a bit of base knowledge behind him that at least acts as a base and assures him that he's not alone in all of this. Anyway, thank you for your review and please keep reading!**

**And finally can I say thank you to **_insidemyworld _**for sharing that story with me. I was really sad when I read your review, and really don't know what to say other than I'm obviously sorry. I don't want to go too deep into it, in case you don't like that sort of thing, so I'm just going to leave it as that - I'm sorry. I'm glad you're reading the story, and may I dedicate it to your cousin? If that's okay, may I have her name please? If not, don't worry about it, and take care hun xxx.**

Thank you to everyone who reviewed and will continue to review after reading this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it, love you all, from Jordan xx.

P.S - I have jumped on the bandwagon and created a Xanga site. I'd love it if people visited it, it includes information on fanfic stories and just my everyday life. The address is on my front page.


	6. Break

_Don't expect me just to open up_

_Maybe I'm just a little scared_

_Please don't tell me what you think I want to hear_

* * *

Every second feels like a minute and every minute feels like an hour. Every hour feels like a day and every day feels like a week. Every week feels like a month and the month that had passed since the 'great plate' incident as it is now known, felt like a century.

At least I'd had the detentions to keep me busy. A year ago I would have never believed it but I now actually missed seeing old McGonagall's disapproving face every time I walked into her office for the hourly punishment. It gave me some stability; a permanent fixture that I was accustomed to seeing and an escape from Pansy fucking Parkinson.

She doesn't get it. She just doesn't get it. Even Crabbe and Goyle, who I consider the most useless and stupidest lumpish oafs in the world had given me my own space during the past week. I'd grown extra irritable and it was quite commonplace for them to receive at least three threats of crucacius curses a day. Pansy got the same treatment - and sometimes more - but instead of backing away, she attached herself closer to me. She even tried to get approval to join me in my month's worth of detentions.

Never had I been so grateful to see McGonagall's thin-lipped, cold-eyed stare of refusal as she denied Pansy her wish. She was actually doing it again now, not at Pansy though. At me.

"And would you be so kind as to explain _why _you have not completed your homework, Mr. Malfoy?" She asked sardonically.

I shrugged in a defeated manner, hearing my shoulder joints audibly crack as I did so. The sound was drowned out by the snickers of the Gryffindors at seeing me taken down a peg or two. Pansy threw them furious looks before delivering one to me as well. McGonagall continued with the lesson after issuing me with another three nights of detention and I knew Pansy was going to pounce on me for something by the way her eyes kept darting from McGonagall's hawk-like eyes to my deadened ones. Sure enough, the moment her back was turned Pansy's lips were inches from my ear like a shot.

"Why are you not maintaining our image?" she hissed violently. "We have a reputation to protect and _you _are tarnishing it."

"Fuck you," was all I whispered. She gave a heavily exaggerated sigh and crossed her arms huffily. She was certainly going to bring this up again. She was right though, of course. She had an annoying way of accurately pinpointing my problems or concerns and then zeroing in on them without even realising it. And she was deadly on target this time as well. I was letting the Slytherin name slip. I had been looked upon as the leader of Slytherin house since fourth year on account of my family name. Now I was in the seventh year this had only been more established and those who had returned from last year, eager to see what trouble I plotted for the Gryffindors were probably most disappointed. I didn't care. I didn't care about anything now. A Slytherin versus Gryffindor war couldn't cure me.

True to form, Pansy clung onto my side like a leech when we were let out of McGonagall's class.

"Fuck you? _Fuck you_?" she screeched as we walked down the corridor. "That's all you can say? Well listen here Draco because I have plenty to say."

_I bet._

"What's happened to us? What's happened to _you_? You're letting us down. I can't hold up the Slytherin name single-handedly you know! I'm not that capable."

_Boy, do I know._

"You're being unfair, Draco. You may be in some - some -" she struggled to find the words, "- chronically depressiveness ... shit but you're dragging all of us down with you. Finnigan called me a bitch the other day and you didn't even _threaten _to hex him."

_That's because I agreed._

"And lately, you haven't even said a _word _to Potter ..." she continued. I let her drone on annoyingly. I didn't want to hear anymore - she was once again fatally precise with her accusations. I hadn't said a word to Potter in a month. The last time I said something to him was immediately after the 'great plate' incident. Days after that encounter I couldn't stop thinking about our brief conversation, if you could call it that. In a flood of people that I came into contact with every day that couldn't fucking see that there was something wrong, there was Potter, concerned. I still wanted to see him writhe in pain and die torturously, but there was something in him that I hadn't seen before. And I didn't know what it was.

I felt strangely compelled to know more about him though. I found that all my thoughts linked back to him somehow. I took a bath this morning - a now twice daily routine - and saw a scab forming on my bare arm. Scratching it maliciously it dawned on me that this time next year, a mark would be branded there permanently. Then it dawned on me that this time next year, I wouldn't even be alive to receive the dark mark. It got me thinking; I probably wouldn't be alive to fight the war. I wouldn't be alive to serve the dark lord. I wouldn't be alive to see Potter's downfall. Then, even more strangely I linked my disease with him. I wonder if this is how he feels; one singular person battling against an opponent he isn't sure he could beat.

"... And _maybe _if you just _ate _something once in a while, you wouldn't be so cranky ..."

_Was she still talking?_

"... Look like a skeleton. You've gotten so _pale _as well. I used to like that about you but now you just look positively _transparent_."

"Tactful as ever, Pansy," I couldn't help muttering. She stopped walking and pulled me to a standstill.

"Drake," she began gently, taking my hands in hers. I pulled them away disgustedly.

"My fucking name is Draco," I spat. She let out an animalistic snarl.

"I don't know what's with you and your mood swings lately Draco Malfoy, but this has got to stop." She stomped away before shouting over her shoulder. "One day, I might get fed up of your crappy temper and leave you alone."

"I could only fucking wish!" I shouted after her. She gave no indication whether she heard as she continued her stride down the corridor. She was probably going to the common room. I didn't want to go in there, surrounded by people. I dreamily thought of my isolated bedroom, despite the fact that it was early afternoon, but I'd have to pass through the common room to get there and I couldn't stand seeing that pug-faced pig snout so quickly after getting rid of it. So where else could I go where I'd be alone?

"Hey Draco," Blaise called from behind. I turned around and saw he was with Millicent and Warren. "We're going into Hogsmeade. Apparently that dodgy guy who always tries to sell us second hand sweets on the corner of Blotts has some revision quills that really make you brainier for N.E.W.T's! Fancy coming?"

"No, I er, actually was planning on er ..." I cast a glance to the cloudy sky. It looked quite temperamental, like it was unsure of itself. It was comforting. "... Practicing quidditch, actually."

* * *

I hadn't ridden my broom at all this term but it felt good to feel it buzzing with life as I removed it from the broom shed. It vibrated jauntily at my touch and I smiled for what seemed like the first time since July 29th. I found that sometimes, even to smile made my face ache.

I commanded it to the ground so I could step one leg over it without discomfort but it disobediently rose up to arm level again.

"Lower," I snapped authoritatively and it dropped at once. I stepped one leg over so I could straddle it.

"_Slowly_ rise," I said, in a more soothing tone. It made a miniature ascent until I was sitting comfortably and my feet were tiptoeing on the ground.

"Now _go_," I directed almost excitedly, and I felt bliss as I soared into the air, Hogwarts becoming but a distant memory, a pinprick on the fabric of life. I almost threw my head back and laughed into the clouds. I let my senses drop and enjoyed the feeling of the wind rushing through my hair, cooling my face with its gentle blows. I flew upwards for probably five minutes without stopping before seeing something that made me jerk my broom to a hasty stop. Some_one _rather.

Potter.

No snappy remark came to me. I didn't need one. He was sitting on his broom with his back to me, alone. I didn't need to disturb him. I could fly somewhere else and not bother him. But I didn't. I stayed there for a while, hovering silently, watching him think. His unruly patch of hair on the back of his head blew wildly in the wind and his hand kept smoothing it down, only for it to blow back up the second he took it away.

I was so lost in watching his actions I didn't have time to react when he turned around without warning and almost flew into me. His broom was way too fucking fast. His eyes wore a startled expression as though I'd scared him. A hundred things to say flew into my brain and I had almost settled on an awkward _hi _until he spoke first.

"What are you doing here?" His tone was defensive. I swallowed my original greeting.

"Coming to see what you half-bloods do in your spare time," I sneered. "Not much by the looks of things."

He didn't want to fight. "Just leave me alone Malfoy," he said wearily. I didn't want to fight either.

"Leave me alone Malfoy," I mimicked in a high pitched voice. "What if I don't _want _to leave you alone?" I bumped into his broom slightly with my own. "What are you going to do?" I nudged it again, harder. "Make me?"

He didn't fight back. He turned away.

"Scared, Potter?"

No response.

"Is big brave goody-goody Dumbledore-loving Potter _scared_?" I asked cruelly, hating my verbal bullying. I heard a sob catch in his throat. _Shit_. _Stop Draco, just fucking stop._ But I couldn't.

"Ha! Are you _crying_?" I zoomed to the other side of him and stared in his face. A solitary tear made a journey from his left eye, down the side of his nose and onto his lip where it hung momentarily before falling gracefully into the open sky. What had I done?

"You fucking wimp," I sneered artificially. "Wait until everybody hears about this. Potter snivelling like a little baby! Cry me a river -"

"Shut up, SHUT THE FUCK UP MALFOY!"

His words came fast and powerful and they left me slightly open mouthed and speechless. I didn't have a chance to respond because he started to talk to me.

"Dear _brave _Malfoy," he began, roughly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and flying a few feet away from me before turning around and facing my stare accusingly. "Daddies little rich boy, gets everything he wants from his parents. Never works for anything, just snaps his fingers and gets what he wants on command."

"At least I have parents," I murmured involuntary. He didn't acknowledge I spoke as he started to encircle me slowly.

"Everything except for love. I've seen the way old daddy treats you. Doesn't give you the time of day, does he Malfoy? Seems like the little façade is slowly slipping. Is that why you were crying in the corridor that day we spoke?"

"I wasn't fucking -"

"Or was it because of the fact that everybody is slowly seeing you for what you are, Malfoy? A conceited -"

_He's right._

" - Arrogant -"

_He's right._

" - Fucking prick who -"

_Fuck, he's right. I don't want to hear this. It fucking hurts... _

" - Hides behind -"

_...but I deserve it._

" - Daddy because he doesn't want to see or hear the truth."

And I don't. I don't want to see or hear the truth, but it was too late. Potter was going to deliver it to me whether I liked it or not and I could have easily zoomed over to him, less than a foot away now, and knocked him off his broom. Like a car crash, I shouldn't have wanted to see it, but I didn't want to stop him. I deserved this. I needed to hear it.

"Nobody likes you Malfoy," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "Even your friends are leaving you. And one day you'll find yourself completely alone."

I fought back the tears and listened to what he had to say, perfectly able to shut him up.

"And when you're an old man on your deathbed, no wife, no kids, nobody at all to love you, remember these words. Remember my words as you cry yourself to sleep at night. Remember my words when you sit desolately and wonder why nobody wants to be around you or your fucking family's wealth. Remember my words Malfoy. Every time you hurt people with your actions, the way you looked down on me and Hermione because we didn't have so called 'pure blood'..."

_My blood is the one that's tainted now._

"... And each time you hurt Ron with your fucking arrogant ways. Remember all of these things Malfoy. Remember our first encounter when you just _had _to lord it over everyone else, trying to bully me into making friends with you and not Ron. When you take your last rasping breath of air and your life flashes before your eyes and you see all of the mistakes you made ... Remember these words."

And I don't know what happened. Each word hit me like a bullet in the chest and I remember losing all muscle control. My bones seized up like they'd never done before and I even felt my face pulsate with pain. I blinked at a perplexed Potter through blurry vision and slumped from my broom. A scream erupted - Potter's or mine, I don't know - and felt strangely calm as I fell through the sky. Something zoomed in front of me.

Everything went black.

_

* * *

_

"Shit. Oh shit fucking shit, please be alright. Malfoy, wake up. Malfoy?"

A hand slapped me lightly across the face.

"Oh fuck, please Malfoy, please wake up."

A hand slapped me roughly across the face.

"You hit me again and I'll hex you into oblivion," I slurred groggily.

"Oh shit, thank god."

I slowly opened my eyes to the sight of Potter crouching over me, his face too blurrily close. The clouds had broken up to reveal the sun that now cast an angelic halo behind Potter. He was anything but. He was a fucking heartless shit. He must be to say the things he said. Repeated stabs embedded into my heart like knife wounds and twisted cruelly as I once more went over the truths he pointed out.

"You hurt me," I croaked. "You really hurt me."

"We had to make a crash landing, you just suddenly _fell_," Potter gabbled.

"That ..."

_That wasn't what I meant, asshole. You fucking hurt me emotionally. Each word you spat venomously hurt me more than any fucking disease could. I'm dying inside and you're causing an earlier death you fucking bastard I fucking hate your guts just fucking die. _

" ... Must be why," I finished lamely. Potter nodded nervously, chewing on his lip.

"Let's get you up and inside," he said in a manner that he knew what he was doing. He held onto my arm and tried to pull me up. I got less than an inch off the ground before my leg wobbled dangerously and suddenly gave way. I sharply sucked in air as the pain throbbed up and down my leg.

"Get off," I shrieked at Potter, trying to wrench my arm from his grip. He did so, and I fell back to a lying position. He looked worried, concerned ... Slightly _sympathetic._ I didn't need any fucking sympathy.

"Just go away, I'll get myself up," I said with a wave of my hand. He didn't budge as he stared at me incredulously.

"You've just fell hundreds of feet through the air, I'm not leaving you," he said matter-of-factly. He reached to take a hold of my arm again but I drew it close to my chest.

"Just leave," I said again. "Really, I can manage." That last part sounded like a slight plea.

"There's no way I'm leaving you here," said Potter. He shifted position as he rethought out a plan. "But if you can't move, I'll get someone to come here." He turned around and went to run for help.

"NO," I shouted forcefully, shocking myself with the sharpness of my tone. It stopped him in his tracks and he turned and looked at me questioningly.

" ... No, I'm ... I'm alright," I confirmed, trying to sit up. My body felt like a ten ton weight as I propped myself up on my elbows. They wobbled dangerously but I grit my teeth and squeezed my eyes together tightly as I heaved myself upwards. I'd done it. Every bone in my body was now hurting like hell but I'd done it. I felt proud of myself managing to complete such a feat.

"You see?" I said, opening my eyes and looking up at Potter, but he crouched down again with a concerned look on his face. "What?" I asked, not liking his face being so close to mine.

"You're bleeding," he said. "Shit, you're bleeding like mad."

My hand flew to my nose and I felt the slightly sticky river that was threatening to douse my lips in its crimson lake. "No, this is ... This is nothing," I defended, wiping it away furiously. It _was _something. A symptom. I fucking hate that word. As well as aching joints and loss of appetite, I also suffered from bouts of bleeding, mostly from the nose and gums.

_Shit, he's not meant to see me like this._

"Shit, what shall I do?" Potter was no use in an emergency, though I guess he didn't have many options, what with me refusing point blank to let him bring someone over.

"Don't you know any incantations or something?" I snapped.

He shook his head dazedly. "Malfoy, let me go and get someone," he begged. I shook my head furiously, my neck bones creaking audibly like rusty machinery. "Then I'm going to have to get you up," he concluded.

"No," I started to protest, but he dug his hands under my armpits and tried to drag me into a standing position. He was struggling with my weight, I could tell, but he didn't give up. With a final surge he managed to get me standing and immediately ducked his head under my arm and put it around his shoulder.

_Fuck, what if anybody sees_?

"I'm alright, Potter," I snarled, snatching my arm away from his shoulder as though it was red hot. "I can fucking walk on my own, I'm not an invalid." This was a matter of opinion. I couldn't feel my legs at all, they might have well have been stumps for all they were worth at the moment. I forced one foot in front of the other, shutting my eyes in pain as I tentatively lowered my body weight onto each respective foot with every step I took. I shuffled along in this manner for three footsteps, Potter watching me cautiously from behind. On the fourth step, my ankle buckled and if it wasn't for Potter there as quick as a shot, I would have fell back down.

"I've got you," he said. "I won't let you fall."

It must have took twenty minutes to get back to school. He left me outside the side entrance and rushed in to get a spell book after I protested that I didn't want anybody to see me like this. I leant against a pillar and tried to act as nonchalant as I could to any passers-by. Luckily, there weren't many; the few that passed were lower formers who had no business to stop and speak to me anyway. Most of our year were either in class or on a N.E.W.T's revision study period.

Potter breathlessly appeared a couple of minutes later, a tattered old spell book in hand. He turned to a previously marked page and muttered a few words, pointing his famous wand at my legs.

_Shit_. In my haste I forgot that no spells would heal me anyway, what with Leukaemia being a stupid fucking muggle disease. He looked at me anxiously, awaiting my response.

"Fine," I said to the floor. "I'm better now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I said forcefully. "I am."

There was a scuffling sound and I saw Potter's feet shuffling slightly. "Are you positive?" he asked.

"Yes," I snapped. "Positive. Now go."

He hesitated. "Are you absolutely sure you're okay?" I didn't answer. He stayed there for a few seconds longer before I heard him walk away. I let a minute pass before I dared to look up.

He was walking up the stairs into the entrance when I whispered my answer.

"No," I croaked softly. "No, I'm not."

* * *

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. The next update is probably going to be a longer wait than this one, mainly because I think it will be a hard one to write. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and please review. Love you all, take care. Love Jordan xx**


	7. 180

_I am a fighter  
And I aint gonna stop  
There is no turning back...  
...I've had enough._

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I knew I was going to regret it, so why I kept advancing further towards the old Victorian building I don't know. With each step I took, I willed myself to take two back. But my body, tired of being filled up with this fucking disease resisted my mind's willpower and forced itself to carry on walking.

The encounter with Potter a couple of days ago had taken a lot out of me. I'd managed to stagger to my room after he'd left and collapse on my bed. For five hours, I just lay there, unable to do anything, my muscles seized up and my joints pulsating with pain. I then heaved myself up to take a bath where I lay for another two hours soothing my aching bones.

Not that anybody hadn't noticed my sluggishness lately. At first I thought that Pansy, the over perceptive bitch had babbled our little argument around the school by the way everyone was constantly asking me if I was okay. I was so fucking tired of everyone asking the same questions over and over again.

"Are you okay?"

_No._

"You don't look very well."

_I know._

"Are you getting enough rest?"

_No._

"You look really sick."

_I know._

Okay, so I _did _look ill. As much as I hated to admit it, the illness was starting to take it's toll on the outside of my body as well as in. I knew I didn't look healthy. Even I could see that my eyes had sunken into my face as I stared at myself in the mirror through hollow silver spheres. They looked soulful and expressive. These emotions were something I was taught to abolish a long time ago, they were weak, too much of a giveaway. But right now, there was nothing I could do to stop myself looking fragile and powerless. I _was _fragile and powerless.

The turning point came when I'd awoken after the first eventful nights sleep in weeks to find my body covered almost head to toe in bruises. I bruised so fucking easily these days. That's when I realised something, something that had already briefly flashed in my mind a number of times previously, before I'd killed off the thoughts just as soon as they had appeared.

I was frightened.

I didn't even remember that I wasn't supposed to be frightened as I sobbed desperately, clutching onto my bed sheets for support and wrapping them around me in a hug-like manner. I looked around my bedroom wildly, hoping that someone would help me to get rid of this fucking thing growing inside of me. I just needed someone to tell me it was going to be alright, to help me out. So the next morning, without telling anyone where I was going, I went to see that person.

It was raining heavily when I arrived so I was almost glad when I walked into the Victorian building and smelt the same hospital odour I had smelt the last time I had come here. It was less busy than before, though still bustling with people who queued patiently in line to see the receptionist. I, on the other hand, didn't have time for this shit. My life was far more important than any muggle's was worth.

"Excuse me," I said pushing my way to the front of the queue. Nobody protested. They were too weak to argue. When I reached the receptionist she narrowed her eyes.

"There is a queue back there young man," she said sharply. She wasn't the same one I had spoken to last time, so I put on my best Malfoy manners to charm her.

"This is an _emergency_," I pleaded, a small whine coming into my voice. "I have leukaemia."

She didn't seem impressed. "I am afraid, sir, that leukaemia is not considered a medical emergency. You seem to be in fit health at the moment to be able to jostle your way to the front of the queue, so I daresay you are healthy enough to actually wait in line."

A quick and temporary memory loss spell changed her mind.

"Hello again, Mr. Malfoy," the doctor said, shaking my hand warmly as I stepped into his office. I was a bit taken aback.

"You remember me?" I asked in an astonished tone.

"Yes, you were quite memorable," he smiled. I didn't know what he meant by that so I let it drop.

"Well, I'm just here because …" and then I stopped. What was I meant to say? I needed help. I needed him to tell me that everything was going to be alright, that I was going to get through this. But why was I turning to him for? I didn't even _know _him. I already knew that he couldn't give me a definitive cure because he had told me last time I came. But surely there was something he could do.

I suddenly felt the familiar rise of burning twisted venom rising up inside of me as my emotions started to surface. My Malfoy name roared and raged spitefully and I could feel it replacing the words I really wanted to say. It happened with Granger, it happened with Potter and now it was going to ruin my one last hope and happen again.

"I'm here because," I managed to stammer out slowly.

_I need help._

"I think."

_I need help._

"That I."

_I need help I need help I need help._

And it was on the tip of my tongue. And try as it might I could not let my family pride get in the way of this. Yes, I was asking for help from a muggle. It was embarrassing and humiliating and the very antithesis of what I'd been taught to do but I didn't fucking care. I just wanted help and I wasn't going to blow it. Not this time.

"Do you need help?" The doctor spoke carefully, gently and kindly.

_Yes._

"If you need help," he continued to press softly, "It is always available to you."

_I need help._

"There are programs and groups you can join, to meet others like you. Leaflets available -"

_Yes, I need help._

"- That give you details on how it's best to fight the illness. Medications are made available to you." He stopped at this and a stern look came over his face.

_Shit, he's going to ruin it._

"I seem to remember that you didn't take up any medication, Draco."

_Actually, I'm the one who's going to ruin it._

"Was there a reason for that?"

_Please Draco, just hold it in, for your own sake, bite your tongue._

"You should have spoken to reception on the way out but your records show that you didn't even book a further appointment."

_Hold it in, please._

"You were lucky to get another one at this quick notice."

_Please, just hold it in._

"Don't you think you owe it to yourself?"

_Hold it in._

"Just to at least try the medication out?"

_Hold it, hold it, hold it._

I opened my mouth, unsure of what I was going to say, before I sank back into my seat, poised very carefully with my arms folded back in a casual manner. He didn't say anything but silently analysed my cool demeanour.

"No." The word was alone, powerful and cold.

A flicker of questionability ran across his face for a split second. "No?"

"No." The word still held its effectiveness. I hated it for denying me of my truth.

He nodded, lost in apparent thought. "Okay," he said, sinking back into his seat.

I blinked, thinking I must have misheard him. "You what?" I asked dubiously, unfolding my arms and leaning closer towards him.

He chewed on a pen, almost absentmindedly. This blatant attempt at reverse psychology would have angered me had I not been so genuinely intrigued. "I said, okay," he repeated casually. He even had the audacity to give me a little shrug. Did he really think I was that fucking stupid to fall for this crap?

"So… that's okay?" I asked slowly. I didn't want to fall into his trap by getting angry.

He nodded. "Yep."

I gave a little satisfied nod. "Right then." I stood up importantly, trying not to wince from the sudden stiffness change in my lower back region. "That's settled."

He still maintained his coolness. "It's settled."

I walked over to the door and put my hand on the knob. And at that moment I hesitated. Who knows how different things would have turned out if I hadn't hesitated. I could have marched out, back to Hogwarts and lived life on a completely different path. But I hesitated. I turned to look back at his faux casualness and scowled.

"You know, I know what your game is," I spat. "You're just trying to use reverse psychology on me so I take up your stupid medication."

He didn't even bother to stifle a small yawn. "Am I?"

"Yes!" I cried. "It won't work, you know. I don't fall for that kind of shit. I don't want to take the stupid medication, okay?"

He didn't even bother to reply this time, giving me the smallest of dismissive nods instead.

"I mean, why should I want to take anything to make me better anyway?" I said, pacing around his office. "I mean, I'm going to fucking die anyway, right? Why drag it out?" I paused. "You know I can actually feel it inside of me?" I looked over at the doctor, who leaned forward and looked at me enquiringly.

"Oh yeah," I continued, "I can feel it in me. Sometimes, I just lie on the floor, and visualise it swirling around my body, mixing its toxic self within my blood. And I just stop breathing. To see what would happen. To see if somehow it could be fooled, to see if it would be fooled into thinking that I'm dead and it has no purpose anymore so it can leave, but of course that never works does it?" I gave a jaunty laugh even though tears were leaking out of my eyes.

"And you know sometimes," I continued, my voice rising louder and shriller, "I'm in the bath and I let the water wash over my ears, you know, so that all sounds feel numb inside my eardrums, and I can hear my heartbeat drumming away. And you know what I really wish? I wish that I could reach in and fucking rip out my heart because every time it pumps its making this thing fucking stronger."

I was crying hard now and the office became a blur, but I didn't care. I'd had this bottled up for too long inside of me and I needed to let it out. He wasn't a muggle and I wasn't Draco anymore. We were just two people, one of whom I needed to confide my innermost thoughts to. I collapsed into the chair.

"And it got me thinking. Why should I fucking fight something that's going to kill me anyway, huh? Why bother? There's nothing I can do about it, so why not lie down and let it take me like this, while I'm still me. Look at me doctor. LOOK AT ME. I'm fucking wasting away to nothing. I'm going to just …" I howled uncontrollably and felt a hand rub my shoulder soothingly. I squeezed my eyes tighter, letting more tears fall down my face. I didn't want to see this situation.

"I'm going to die," I continued through bawls. "I'm going to die and its inevitable and it's going to happen and prolonging it will turn me into something I'm not so why should I fucking do it?" I let the words tumble out of my mouth. There was a long exposed silence after this, and I squeezed my eyes together even harder, not wanting to face the scene. The broken sounds of nothingness were constantly interrupted by my increasing subdued sniffs and the rubbing of fabric on my clothes as the doctor continued to squeeze my shoulder relaxingly.

"It is an option." His words were devoid of any emotion and I thanked him silently for it. "I'm not going to lie to you, it is an option should you wish to take it. Medication is more preferable of course, but it is ultimately your decision."

I dared to open my eyes at the same time his hand trailed from my shoulder as he walked around his desk and sat back down in his chair opposite me. I noticed his eyes were meeting mine squarely.

"But I do urge you to give this decision a long think," he said slightly earnestly. "It is not a decision you should make alone either. I assume your guardians know about the situation?"

_No._

"Yes."

He believed me. "Good, perhaps a meeting with them, with you present of course, will help matters. Maybe stop by reception and book another appointment, hmm?"

I nodded dully. "Okay."

His graveness broke into a small smile as he leaned over the desk and shook my hand again warmly.

"Thank you," I said in the realest tone I could muster.

I walked out of the office and came face to face with a ball hurtling at turbo speed towards my face. My quick reflexes snapped into action and I caught it before it took my head off. I had the strangest sense of déjà vu.

A little girl with a black shoulder length bob giggled mischievously as she walked over to me with outstretched arms. "That's the second time," she smirked. I considered bouncing the ball off her fucking head.

"Second time?" I asked sharply.

"Yeah," she said, the annoying grin still plastered onto her face. "You came in before and I did the same thing then. Remember? And then my brother was saying sorry to you?"

I did remember her cute brother. But she looked like unfamiliar.

"You might not remember though," she said, walking directly up to me and taking the ball from my hands. "You seemed pretty upset when you left. You were crying."

"I was not," I snapped.

She wasn't smiling anymore. "It's okay for boys to cry," she said solemnly. "Mom says boys that cry are usually very brave."

"Well Malfoy's _don't_ cry," I muttered bitterly.

"Huh?"

"Nothing." I hadn't meant to say that aloud. She seemed to have got bored of me anyway and now concentrated on throwing her ball in the air and catching it. I watched her, transfixed by something I wasn't sure of. Maybe it was the sense of familiarity yet the way she looked like a totally different person was what intrigued me. I wasn't aware that she was aware that I was staring until she was standing inches away from me.

"What?" she asked, giving me a strange look.

"N-nothing," I said, breaking my gaze.

"N-n-nothing," she mimicked me. I gave her a sour look. Why the fuck was I letting a seven-year-old get the better of me? As she continued to play with her ball, it dawned on me what looked so different about her.

"You have hair." I felt so stupid as she turned around to face me blankly.

"I mean, you have, well, when I saw you before, you didn't have any…" My voice trailed off. Luckily her face broke into a bright smile.

"Yeah, well the chemotherapy effects are taking a break at the moment," she said beamingly.

"Chemotherapy?"

"Yep."

"I've heard of that word before."

Her face screwed up into confusion. "Don't you see Dr. Warner?"

I shrugged.

"The doctor in that office?" She pointed at the door I had walked out of.

"Yeah," I said.

"Well then, why _wouldn't _you have heard the word chemotherapy before?" she asked with emphasised obviousness.

"What?" I asked, genuinely confused with the whole situation.

She sighed patiently. "You've got leukaemia, right?" Fuck, was this kid psychic? When I didn't answer, she lost her cocky attitude. "You have, right? He's the leukaemia doctor. Everyone with it goes to see him."

My jaw felt like a ten ton weight as I struggled to stop my mouth from hanging open in shock. "Do… you…" my voice trailed off. She nodded.

"Yep. For about eight months now, I think," she said, counting on her fingers. "Yep," she affirmed with a bright smile, "eight months."

"But you're…" I was letting a lot of sentences trail in this conversation but I couldn't help it. I was sincerely amazed. "So healthy," I concluded. She tried not to look pleased but it was obvious that she was proud of herself.

"I'm fighting it," she said with a hint of pride in her voice. "I'm not going to let it beat me."

I was in awe over her attitude. "But aren't you scared?" I asked quietly.

She screwed up her face for a second, lost in deep thought. "I suppose I am," she said finally, nodding slowly. "But the way I see it is there are two ways to deal with the situation I'm faced in. I can fight it or not fight it. And I'd rather fight than quit, you know?"

"I know," I nodded. "You're clever for a little kid," I couldn't help add. She bristled indignantly.

"I'm not a little kid, I'm nine!"

I let out a low whistle. "Wow, that's almost grown up," I said with a grin.

She smiled proudly. "How old are you?" she asked.

"Seventeen," I replied.

She was impressed. "You're _are_ a grown up." She said the word grown-up like it held some sort of magic power. "Same as Jake."

"Jake?"

"Jake. My brother. You saw him before," she said.

_Oh, I saw him all right._

"Oh yeah, right. I remember. Is he… er, here?" I felt a sudden pang of guilt, asking this kid where her hot older brother was, but she remained oblivious to my ulterior motive as she shook her head.

"No, it's just me and mom here today. Jake's at college. I'm going to go to college. I'm going to study science so I can become a doctor. You have to go to college if you want to do that," she said wisely.

I felt my throat dry up and tears threatening to well in my eyes as I pictured this little kid's false hopes of dreams that could never come true. Damn this fucking disease, it's so fucking unfair.

"My moms in the office. She's not seeing Dr. Warner today. She's talking to Dr. Bishop." She lowered her voice. "He's a really, really important doctor."

On cue, her mom left the office shaking Dr. Bishop's hand softly. I caught a flash of her red-rimmed eyes before she lowered her head and rummaged through her handbag distractedly. When she revealed her face again a huge artificial smile was plastered onto her face. She locked eyes with me and I felt a knife stab me in the heart. I gave her a watery smile and she returned it. The knife shredded my heart to bits.

"Are you ready to go Katy?" her mom asked.

"Mom," she whined with a pained expression on her face and pointing at me. "I was going to play basketball with him." Her mother threw me an apologetic smile. I returned it with a genuine one.

"I'll play basketball with you next time I see you," I said turning to Katy, kneeling down on one knee so I was level with her.

She thrust out her lower lip. "Promise?"

I nodded solemnly. "I promise." I stuck out a hand. "I'm Draco."

She shook it, casting looks at her mother to see if she was watching how she was participating in a 'grown-up' hand-shaking gesture. "I'm Katy," she said.

She let go of my hand suddenly and let her ball drop to the ground as she rushed at me and hugged me around the neck tightly. I was caught off guard and didn't know what to do, before I felt my arms slowly raise on their own accord and pat her on the back lightly. A sudden sense of emotion I couldn't quite place rushed over me and I found myself squeezing her back with as much affection before she broke away.

She picked up her ball and ran to her mother. "See you later," she called gaily, giving me a wave. Her mom gave me a quick wave too. I waved back numbly. To her, this was an offhand gesture. To me, this was a breakthrough. I'd felt something. I actually felt something with that little kid. That one conversation that we had had opened up my eyes to a new perspective completely. She'd turned around my opinion of everything I thought I had believed in and replaced it with new found confidence.

I got up off the floor and walked over to Dr. Warner's office with shaking legs. I knocked on the door softly, before opening it and poking my head around the corner.

"I just er…" I began, but he stopped me with a smile.

"You came for these?" he asked knowingly, producing a tube. I didn't need to ask what they were, nor reply to his answer as I took them from him with a nod and a smile.

Walking out of the building, I stepped into glorious sunshine which had dominated and beaten the heavy rain into submission. I let out a sudden laugh. I felt happy. I knew this wasn't it and I knew I had a long way to go. But right now, I was happy.

I smiled and was blissfully surprised when I realised that it didn't hurt to do so.

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**Thank you for reading this chapter. Although it took a while to upload, this was actually the quickest and easiest to write, even though I thought it would be the total opposite. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and please leave reviews. Love you all! Take care, love Jords x **


	8. Facade

_ When he shall die  
Take him and cut him in little stars  
And he will make the face of heaven so fine  
That all the world will be in love with night  
And pay no worship to the garish sun..._

**

* * *

**

**06.25.**

Precision is necessary.

**06.26.**

The night was refusing to wear off as the darkness still gleefully took reign of the sky, even though morning was due to come any minute. Shadows swayed hypnotically to non-existent rhythms and the contents of my room looked mysterious under the gloominess of the upcoming day. Shades of midnight blue were the only colours that seeped through the fabric of my curtains, casting my bedroom in a navy glow. Every three seconds without fail, the hem of my curtains would billow softly, ever so insignificantly, before floating back to their old position again. I knew this because I'd been lying on my back and watching it happen for the past ten minutes. I couldn't do anything else. This is a routine and precision is necessary.

**06.27.**

I sometimes had brief split-second moments when I thought about breaking the routine. I'd grown up having those quick flashes as well. All my life I've been told that I have to be delicately precise in my actions. How to sit in a chair at the dining table so that the cutlery was mirrored _exactly _right according to the angle I was perched. How to walk at a steady pace so that it didn't look like I was in a hurry, yet far too busy to talk to people not worthy of my standards. And how to give off a perfect sneer. A superior flicker of a smirk with a carefully raised eyebrow that concealed all feelings and emotion.

I'd been watched under the meticulous eye of my father for so long that I used to doubt whether I had any emotions or thoughts of my own anymore. When I encountered brief thoughts of breaking the routine I dismissed them as quickly as they came, anxious and afraid that father would discover them. Sometimes, I even –

**06.28.**

Two minutes left, although this was the _real _start of my routine. I started by firmly pushing my elbows into my mattress and lifting myself up to a thirty degree angled half-sitting position. Then, balancing on my left elbow, I removed my right elbow from the mattress and replaced it with the sturdier stability of my right hand. Doing the same symmetry with my left hand, I then pushed myself up into an eighty degree angled sitting position.

**06.29.**

My right leg shuffled itself from the bed first, tiptoeing tentatively until it found the floor. I turned my body forty-five degrees, before the left leg joined its counterpart. Then, with a heavy push off my bed, I walked over to my cabinet, which took exactly twelve steps, and reached my destination with one second to spare.

**06.30.**

Precision is necessary.

I took the small tube out of my cabinet with shaking hands. I'd repeated this process for almost two weeks now and could do it in complete darkness. However, for the next step I needed light and I scrabbled around my desk before I came into contact with my wand and _lumosed _light into my room. At once the shadows disappeared, casting my room in an Earthy bronze colour. Now I had light I slowly unscrewed the lid with the lightest force I could muster. I placed it squarely in front of me and then peered into the capsule.

Nine pills left. They'd last me three days, but I wanted to go back to Dr. Warner before then to get a refill. I'd been on them for this long; I wasn't going to break the routine yet. I knew they were working. I didn't bruise as easily, I didn't suffer from night sweats as much anymore, and I felt longings for apple pie again. I knew they helped me, but it still scared me to take them. I was trusting muggles more and more by the day, but their medicine techniques still petrified me. Why did I have to swallow these pills? Why couldn't it just be as easy as placing a finger in a copy of _Diagnosis SOS _and having your symptom cured through there? Why were they so behind in cure rates? I threw these thoughts aside and dry swallowed the pill without any water in exactly the same manner as I did yesterday and every other morning at 6.30am sharp. I willed the pill to work, to find the entire range of evil leukaemia cells and kill them off, dissolving the disease into nothingness and giving my body immune system new strength. My doubts got the better of me and dampened the hopes I had. I began to feel hot tears leak out the corner of my eyes and I scolded myself sharply.

_Don't you dare fucking cry. You've got it a lot easier than most people in your situation, so stop that silly snivelling at once._

I did as I was told straight away. Not through harshness, and not through the fact that Malfoy's never cry either. It was due to the fact that the image of Katy kept swimming into my mind and invading my thoughts. She was worse off than me, yet still managed to maintain a smile and a happy outlook on life. I was going to stay strong, for the pride and strength she had in herself at least.

I pondered what to do now. Though I didn't feel particularly tired, I knew it would be best to get at least another half an hours rest before I got ready for school. If I didn't manage to fall back to sleep, at least I could give my body a rest for the long day ahead. I put the tube back into the cabinet and mentally reminded myself again to get a refill from Dr. Warner before I ran out. The light from my wand was beginning to fade slowly, so I grabbed it and walked back over to my bed. I was about to stop the spell and get back into bed before I noticed something peculiar out of the very corner of my eye.

On my pillow were fine strands of hair. Though the light was artificial, there was no doubt to whom the strands belonged too. The unmistakable shade of brilliant blonde was a Malfoy trademark, though they now lay perfectly inconspicuous and independent as if arranged there delicately and purposely. Though it wasn't a significant amount, my hand still raised itself quickly to my head of hair and felt around nervously.

It did seem to feel thinner than usual, but was that just my paranoia? After all, there wasn't a lot of strands on the pillow at all and I probably wouldn't even be able to feel any difference if they _had _fallen from my head. I knew that it was a side effect from my chemotherapy if it _had_ happened so I wasn't worried about that. But I was scared of losing my beautiful hair. It was my best feature, everybody said so. Pansy often liked to stroke it delicately...

A shiver ran down my spine and I forced the image of Pansy's fingers entwining into my locks out of my mind. That sickening thought was the last thing I needed to think of right now.

"_Reflectos_," I commanded sharply, my voice cutting through the silence of the morning. At once, my reflection appeared in front of me and I peered forward to examine my hair. I managed to stifle a sob that caught in my throat by dragging the image of Katy's completely bald scalp into my mind. That stopped my initial reaction to my reflection straight away. It wasn't anywhere near as bad as hers was. Situated to the left of the centre of my head was a thinning patch where strands of hair had fallen out. It must have been the way I slept because no other bald patches were apparent. It wasn't unfixable though and using my wand I summoned my hair gel over.

It hovered in the air patiently as I delicately brushed my hair in different directions with my fingers, trying to find the best way to cover the empty spot. I finally found a solution, and biting my lip in concentration, I scooped a glob of gel into my hand and applied it softly to the front of my hair. I slicked my hand all the way to the back of my head and suddenly bit my lip hard in horror. Warm blood instantly filled my mouth but I didn't notice as tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. And this time I let them.

The length of hair that I had just applied gel to had stuck themselves to the fucking stuff. I was now completely bald save for a few wisps on the entire right side of my head. I howled as I looked at myself in the mirror. I knew I was being selfish, vain, and self-centred and I didn't care. I looked like a fucking freak. With my sunken hollow eyes, fading bruises and slightly patchy skin I looked like the very epitome of disease and illness. I grabbed my wand tightly, forcing it to dig into my palm. It didn't hurt nearly enough as I wanted it to so I used it to shatter the fucking substance that had ruined me. I screamed and roared my anger and pain as glass flew in all directions. I caught sight of my tear stained face in the reflection and I hurled abuse at myself.

"You fucking bastard I fucking hate your fucking guts you fucking cunt."

I pointed my wand at the reflection and it shattered into a million pieces. I cried bitterly as I watched myself being shattered into oblivion. I felt like _I _had been torn into a million pieces. I felt like my heart had been ripped out and stamped upon. My pride and joy had fucking been destroyed. I fucking hated this thing inside of me; it was ruining my fucking life. I hated it so much. I thought I would be prepared for any side effects that might occur but all preparation was forgotten as I remembered the sight I had caught of my hair. I collapsed into a sitting position on the floor, and after a while my sobs subsided and all was silent except for the occasional sniff from me. I sat there, cross-legged, rocking myself soothingly. I was feeling dejected, I felt so numb, as though nothing was really happening and I was just part of my body without a soul. I felt that way until I heard the early noises of a couple of people in the room below mine, and then some more until the usual babble of noise rose to a loud level.

* * *

The noises had long gone and I knew that I was going to get into trouble for being late if I didn't make a move, yet I couldn't will my body to work. My entire weight felt heavy and it was an effort to even breathe. I'd calmed down now though. Katy's hug kept niggling me in the back of my mind and every time I started to feel sorry for myself, the memory gave me a short sharp shock back to reality.

I closed my eyes and conjured up a reflection spell again. My voice sounded dull and I knew that it was going to hurt to do this, but it was the only way I could feel in control, the only way I could feel like I was winning. Opening my eyes, I took another look at myself. The bald patch looked sore, yet it was surprisingly soothing compared to the rest of my head. It felt like it was on fire in comparison, it was so itchy and I had been scratching the hell out of my scalp for the past few days I had suddenly realized.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, my fingers slowly rose to the front of my hair. I grabbed a fistful of it and squeezed my eyes together tightly. I swallowed and pulled as hard as I could. They came out much easier than I expected, and, with my eyes still shut, I continued to do the same to my whole head. When I finally dared to open my eyes, I didn't look at my reflection. I instead focused on my lap and the hill of blonde hair that lay there. With grim determination I continued to find stray strands, pull them out softly and add them to the pile. When convinced that there was nothing left to pull, I looked up in front of me slowly.

It looked worse than I imagined. I couldn't even pretend to comfort myself as silent tears flooded down my face, hanging momentarily on my chin before falling into the hair on my lap that was no longer mine. I wasn't me anymore. I looked horrible. I sucked in a deep breath and forced the image of Katy into my mind. I felt guilty for thinking of myself and a stab struck my heart. A second stab struck me again as I felt more guilt for using her to make myself feel better. I took another quick glance at my reflection. I couldn't go out in public like this, no way. People would surely laugh and being laughed at was never on a Malfoy's agenda.

My hand-drawn timetable rustled impatiently on my dresser informing me that I was late for my first lesson. I threw on my robes and yanked a hat onto my head. It looked impractical and professors were no doubt going to moan but I didn't care. I had to keep my standards high.

* * *

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. How lovely of you to grace us with your presence!" Snape's voice came in sardonic tones. I was not in the mood.

"You're welcome," I murmured, settling into my seat. I was horribly aware of Pansy's wide-eyed stare of wonder staring at me. She had a million questions to ask, I could tell, and I was in no mood to answer any of them.

"And what time do you call this?" Snape was not letting me off easily.

I shrugged. "Nine o'clock?" I guessed, not hiding the boredom in my voice at all. Snape pursed his lips together as if suppressing his anger before withdrawing a breath. "Get on with the work I set you," he snapped to the entire class, indicating he was finished with humiliating me.

I got my parchment out moodily and noisily, willing Pansy to suddenly come down with a bout of laryngitis or something. I could only dream.

"What's the matter with you Drake?" she whispered.

_Fuck off._

"Nothing," I mumbled back.

"Why are you so late?"

_Mind your own business._

"I just am."

"Why didn't you come down to breakfast?"

_The sight of you with melted butter dribbling down your chin isn't something I want to see first thing in the morning._

"Wasn't hungry."

"Astral brought you a letter at breakfast today."

"Did he?" A flicker of interest rang in my voice at this. Astral, the family owl was only used to deliver letters when it was important and written by my parents.

"Yeah, but I told him to come back tomorrow."

_Interfering little bitch._

"Great."

"Why are you wearing that stupid hat for?"

"Just shut the fu-"

"I was about to ask the same thing," a slow voice drawled from behind me. Pansy and I turned around and was greeted with Snape's cold eyes burning into us. "Humour me, please. Why _are _you wearing that thing on your head, Malfoy? I'm sure you're horribly aware that it looks awful on you."

"Because I want to," I scowled, turning back to my desk. The entire class had stopped working and the scratching of quills had dropped to a level that blatantly let them eavesdrop on the conversation that was taking place. Their heads were bent over their desks as if they were lost in their work when all they were really lost in was my fucking private conversation. I wanted to _stupefy_ them all. Only Potter dared to look at the scene between Snape and I. His unconcealed interest didn't make me want to hex him though. His was a look of concern, not nosiness. I could tell by the way his emerald eyes were narrowed in confusion ever so slightly, his head cocked to one side, trying to figure out what was happening. His eyes darted back and forth, hatred for Snape and ... sympathy for me? No, not sympathy. Concern.

Without warning, I felt something rise slowly from my head. With my recent hair loss, I could quickly tell that my hat was slowly being removed from the way the fabric rubbed against my ever-so-slightly bristly scalp. I gave a quick scream and yanked it back down over my ears. Everyone turned at the sound of my squeal. I started to burn up, my face feeling red-hot and my heart pumping loudly. I turned around venomously and saw Snape standing there with his wand pointed at my head.

"Remove it before I do it for you Malfoy," he said quietly.

"NO," I yelled defiantly. You could have heard a pin drop now. Snape's favourite student audibly refusing a command from his favourite teacher was not something to be missed, apparently. I took a brief moment to deliver dirty looks around the class, my hands still holding onto my hat tightly. Finnigan started to snigger, prompting a few more people to do the same. Fucking bastards.

"Malfoy I have asked you to do something and I expect you do to it," Snape hissed in a single breath. I shook my head vigorously. He bristled with anger and pointed his wand inches from my nose threateningly.

"If you do not comply I will not only take off your hat but your entire head as well," he snapped. I didn't react in the slightest as I continued to shake my head from side to side. I knew he wouldn't carry out this empty threat anyway.

He let out an angry hiss and pointed his wand at my hat. I felt it struggling against my grip to break free and my head thrashed from side to side as I struggled to conceal my shame.

"PROFESSOR, STOP!"

The spell broke as Snape removed his gaze from me. My arms immediately felt free from a heavy weight and I turned to see the direction of the shout. Potter was standing there, breathing heavily and trembling slightly. I looked behind me and saw the look of utmost disgust on Snape's face. His nostrils flared and his mouth twitched as though he was trying to bite back what he really thought of Potter.

"Just like your father," he finally drawled after an uncomfortable silence. "He never knew when to keep his mouth shut either. Fifty points from Gryffindor."

There was an immediate outbreak of protest over this. Snape roared and waved his wand through the air. Windows clattered loudly and the candles extinguished, dropping the lights in the room to a minimum. It shut everyone up instantaneously.

"A further thirty points should do the trick," he said in a soft and careful voice. The Gryffindors knew not to react and Harry slumped back into his seat fumingly. People from my own house threw me grins as if I planned it all. I smiled weak, watery smiles back at them. Crabbe and Goyle guffawed and nudged me chuckling and I elbowed them sharply, trying to get rid of how I felt inside ...

... Inside I felt like shit.

* * *

"Malfoy!"

I stiffened at the sound of my name being called. After class, when I grabbed my things and bolted from the classroom as fast as I could, Pansy had yelled it but I shut her up with a "Piss off Parkinson."

But now it was being called by someone else. I didn't have to turn around to know that I was going to come face to face with tufts of uncontrollable raven coloured hair. But I did. And I was greeted with the sight of flaming red and uncontrollable bushy hair as well. I felt marginally better about my own hair situation upon seeing Potter's lackey's styles.

"Are you alright?" His voice sounded breathless as though he had just competed in a race. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his eyes were wide behind his spectacles. Granger looked at me critically while Weasley scowled a few paces behind with his arms folded.

"Fine," I said indifferently.

_So far, so good Draco. You haven't said anything nasty. Now just turn and go ..._

"Did he hurt you?" Potter was walking next to me, trying to keep up with my brisk pace.

"No," I said through clenched teeth.

_Keep it together Draco._

"Why didn't you just take your hat off?" Granger interjected accusingly.

"Why don't you just shut the hell up?" I said spitefully, turning round and almost bumping into her.

Weasley stepped up with his fists clenched. "Who's going to make her Malfoy? You?" He was quick off the mark to defend Granger. He must have heard about the little chat we had under the willow tree about five weeks ago. Stupid mudblood, running off and telling tales.

"You can't do anything without your little cronies or daddy helping you," he sneered, walking over to me. "Everybody knows that. You need help all the time."

"If _you _tried asking for help maybe you wouldn't still be stuck inside those robes," I smirked disdainfully.

I felt a dizzying pain as a punch landed squarely in the bridge of my nose. My vision blackened and I slumped to my knees feeling disorientated. A wave of nausea came over me and I gagged, thinking I was going to vomit. A pounding pain pulsated in my head and the screams of anguish from Granger weren't helping. I could vaguely hear Potter in the distance yelling at Weasley but I couldn't make out the conversation.

"... Bastard deserved what he got ... do it again ..."

"... Ron you can't ... you hit him ... trouble for sure ..."

"... I care? I ... give a flying ... tell them that as well."

I groaned groggily and as my eyes focused back into place I saw Potter's face inches from mine peering into my eyes anxiously. Those glittering green eyes were dancing with stars and I struggled to keep my focus on them.

"Are you okay?"

I groaned in response. I looked up weakly and saw Weasley pacing back and forth, pounding his fist into his hand threateningly.

"Shit, Malfoy, are you okay?"

I was horribly reminded of the time he had asked me the same thing after I fell off my broomstick. I took help from him then but I certainly wasn't going to take help from him now. I was stronger than that.

"I'm fine," I snapped. "Fuck off."

Weasley gave a disgusted sigh. "He's not worth it Harry, just leave the creep to crawl back from the hole he came from."

He stomped off and Granger followed timidly. I watched them go and then looked back at Harry who was throwing anxious glances between both of us.

"Just go," I exploded. If he was scared of what his friends thought then I didn't give a flying fuck. I didn't want him to hang around pretending he cared. "I'm fine, I don't need no help from you Potter so why don't you fuck off back to licking Weasley's arse?"

He flinched at this remark. "I was just seeing if you were okay, that's all," he murmured. He opened his mouth and shut it again, as if deciding whether to say what was on his mind. He opened it again but shut it straight away as he got to his feet and started to walk away.

"Well, I'm fine," I spat after him. He stopped and turned.

"I'm ... just worried about you," he said in a tight voice, before running off to catch up with his partners.

Disconcertment came over me. Potter wasn't pretending to care at all.

He really did.

* * *

**Hey guys! I'm in two minds about this chapter. I like the first half, but I think the second is a little rushed because I was trying to upload it onto here by tonight. Oh well, I'm still pleased with it. Well, hope everyone has a happy christmas and I'll get the next update on here sometime next year! Take care and please review, love Jordan x x**


	9. Childlike

_I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's to happen next. Hate is easy, love takes courage._

* * *

_**Darling Draco,**_

_**To say your father and I are worried about you is an understatement. We are panic-stricken at not hearing from you for over a month; you normally write to us in the first week of term. We do hope everything is alright. **_

_**Your father has been visited by some spies at the ministry again. Apparently they still believe that they have a solid argument that he was responsible for the torturing of five muggle's last week. We hope you are still going to your muggle studies lessons, Draco. This is most important. You understand, dear.**_

_**The annual dinner party your father and I held went down a feast, as usual. Everyone kept complimenting me on how youthful I looked and your father on his rank-up in the dark lords circle.**_

_**Draco ... I'm actually hesitating to write the next part of this letter. If it was not for my complete faith in Astral and the fact that our floo network has been monitored more than usual since the surveillance watch on our family, then I would not include what I'm about to write in this letter. However, I trust Astral to get this to you safely at any cost and to bring back a reply as soon as one is written.**_

_**Your father is wishing you to get the dark mark before your eighteenth birthday. The dark lord has been most pleased with your obedience and was satisfied with your torture on the muggle child that was brought before the death eaters last year. However, satisfaction is not nearly enough and to pledge allegiance to the dark lord as you already know, you must take the dark mark before an eighteenth birthday is celebrated.**_

_**I know that you are probably most anxious to receive this honour before then so I trust that it will happen very soon. Your father is requesting that he receives a reply as soon as possible.**_

_**Love always,**_

_**Mother.**_

I snorted disgustedly and screwed the letter into a ball ready to dispose of. That fucking fleabag Astral had other ideas however and started pecking me mercilessly, nipping at my bare skin with its horrible beak wherever it could. My yelps of pain immediately summoned Lynx who took no time at all in attacking Astral for my honour. But as much as I wanted Astral to be torn to pieces, I needed him to be at his full strength in case ministry owls decided to try and intercept any further letters.

"Lynx!" I commanded, holding out my arm for her to perch on. She gracefully flew away from the scene, leaving a disgruntled Astral to stare at us violently, as if wondering whether to dare to attack again.

I let Lynx off of my wrist while giving Astral a meaningful glare. He turned away and hooted, ruffling his feathers in disgust. I opened up the balled-up parchment in which my mother had written on and quickly reread the entire letter. My eyes went blurry as I tried to will myself not to read the words properly. I hated my mother for bringing up the torturing of the muggle child. To be honest, since I met Katy I'd been trying to forget that I'd done it. She had looked uncannily like her.

But at the same time I didn't care. I mean, why should I? I have no use for muggles; they serve no purpose, it doesn't affect me if they died or not and they had given me this fucking disease. For that they could all die on the spot. But a voice inside told me that I was being harsh and I didn't mean it and I half-believed it. Since I'd met Katy my mind had become a huge contradiction. Beliefs I had been brought up on and newly acquired opinions bounced off of each other in debate and it left me feeling confused as to what I should think.

My eyes drifted over the letter again and landed on the word father. They stayed there while flashbacks raced through my mind, beginning when I was five years old and foolish enough to think that father's insistence that I kept up the family name was his way of showing love to me, to the most recent encounter I'd had with him a couple of months ago when I had known for several years that this was far from the truth. With these memories racing through my mind, I cleared a space on my desk, unrolled a fresh piece of parchment and began writing slowly.

_**Darling Mother,**_

_**Forgive me if you have been worried that I have not written recently. It's just that I've been busy thinking. Yes, I've been whiling away many hours thinking about life in general. Ever since I've been diagnosed with leukaemia.**_

_**Surprised, mother? I'm sure you know what leukaemia is. A dirty disease that muggle's suffer from. Only, I'm suffering from it now. Ironic really, isn't it? That your dearest Draco who brought you so much pride and joy for the torturing of a muggle is now associated with them. I'm going to die at the hands of muggle's, mother. How utterly embarrassing for the Malfoy name.**_

_**Speaking of which, how is father? I'm sure he is "most worried" and "panic-stricken" as you so eloquently put it, about me. It's a shame that sarcasm doesn't work quite as well in letters or you'd hear it dripping off my tongue as I spoke that line. He doesn't care about me mother, nor do I believe that you believe he does. He wants what is best for himself and doesn't care who he uses to get it.**_

_**If I know you right mother, you've probably got that silly, shocked look on your face right now. The same expression you had when Aunt Melinde said she once associated with someone who was a half-blood. I bet you're speechless. But it's true. Father uses everyone he can to get to a better place in life. He's using me as his heir, to ensure that his legacy still lives on when he dies. He's using me to receive the dark mark, to instil further assurance within the dark lord that his allegiance still remains faithful. He's even used you, mother. Yes, he used you to maintain his power. So that the Malfoy name would threaten even more lives when it was backed by the family name of Black.**_

_**I so wish that I could have been at the dinner party. You have no idea how much I used to enjoy seeing guests pay compliments to you and father and then issuing hearing charms and hearing what they said behind your back. Of course, I was angry that they had the audacity to belittle you in your own home and it usually resulted in an embarrassing public trip jinx for them. But at the same time, it excited me a little. Because even when I was your good little angel who could do no wrong - because all I ever did was nod and obey - I still resented you both for making me do it. **_

_**Father pushed me so hard and you never stopped him. I was never good enough for him. Even when I got five Outstandings in my O.W.L's, all he mentioned was the fact that annoying little Granger got nine. When I caught the snitch in last year's quidditch final which resulted in Slytherin winning the house cup, all he mentioned was the fact that Potter had beaten me to it all the other times. And I hated him for it. I hated you both for not loving me so much that you couldn't have been proud of me and put everything and everyone else aside just once. No comparisons with mudbloods or Potter or anyone. I used to wish that you would just be proud of me on my merits alone.**_

_**By the time you get this, I'll probably be dead. No doubt father will call upon for me to be murdered. Would you really put it past him to dispose of me to maintain his dignity, and be honest mother. You see, father and I have the same logic. If I died, he'd get slack brought upon him from the ministry and they would ease off a little, resulting in praise from the dark lord. However, if I died from a muggle disease, father would be the laughing stock of the wizarding world, only he wouldn't get to see the smirks because the dark lord would dispose of him with the unforgiving curse straight away. As I said, father and I have the same logic. And if it is that obvious to me that that's what father would do to make sure his head would still rise above others, then I have no doubt in my mind that he'd have any guilt in carrying out that form of action.**_

_**So in short, thanks, but no thanks to the dark mark offer. I'd probably not be eligible any more, anyway. Not with this fucking thing inside of me ...**_

Tears fell onto the parchment and I watched entranced as they spread across the slightly crinkled material like tiny little veins breaking off into small, different directions. I didn't even realise that they were coming from my eyes at first, so hypnotically enthralled I was with them. I couldn't feel anything inside of me, I felt like I was on an out of body experience or something. I knew I was sitting there, but I couldn't comprehend anything or make myself do anything other than stare at the words I'd wrote and the tears that were staining them. There was almost four years of built-up resentment and bitterness in that letter and it had left me emotionally numb.

Of course, I was too much under the strict thumb of my parent's to send it. I hastily scribbled an alternative letter.

_**Mother,**_

_**Everything's fine. Just busy revising for my N.E.W.T's, that's all. I need to get top marks to make you and father proud of me. Can't have filthy mudbloods thinking that they're better than a Malfoy and yes, I'm still attending Muggle Studies lessons.**_

_**About the dark mark,**_

I stopped and chewed on my quill anxiously. I still wasn't ready to make a decision, not as important as this, so soon. I needed to stall them with a sufficient enough excuse.

_**Wouldn't it be best to get it on the eve of my birthday? That's when the mark burns more thoroughly. It has more meaning, especially if it is timed exactly right with the twelfth chime of midnight. What better way to celebrate this event?**_

_**Tell father to consider it,**_

_**Draco.**_

I re-read it five times before deciding that it was the best excuse I could think of. It wasn't a lie either. I just hope that father wouldn't be furious that I dared question his, or the dark lords authority. Hopefully, they'd think that it was a tremendous idea and satisfied that I was showing initiative. I looked wistfully at my previous letter that was still tossed to the side. Reading it again, there was so much that I wanted to include, but didn't dare. However, there was one thing I needed to mention and I added it in quickly before I could change my mind.

_**P.S - Someone here is apparently suffering from a dirty muggle disease. Leukaemia, or something. What do you know of it?**_

I thrust it over in Astral's direction who took it in his claws, making sure he delivered me a deep scratch at the same time. I watched him fly away with the letter as my heart beat uncontrollably. Okay, so it wasn't the same as including everything I had written in the previous letter, but I had actually told my mother that I - well, a fictional character at Hogwarts - was suffering from a muggle disease. I had one tiny ounce of hope that she'd be sympathetic, that she'd advise me to befriend them and make sure they are okay. But as I watched Astral become nothing short of a dotted speck in the sky I knew I had no such luck. She'd despise it.

If only she knew the truth.

* * *

"How are you feeling Draco?"

"Fine."

"So would you say your symptoms have occurred more than ever, or have they lessened since you started the chemotherapy?"

"Stayed about the same, I guess."

"And how did you respond to the treatment earlier today?"

I scratched at the bandage around my arm. "As well as I could to having a needle and syringe stabbed into my bones," I said mildly.

Dr. Warner shuffled uncomfortably in his seat and wouldn't quite meet my eyes and at that exact moment I knew that something was wrong. My heart gave a slight lurch and my mouth dried up. I tried to speak but my tongue felt like it was made out of sandpaper. Eventually Dr. Warner found his voice.

"I've been looking at your files Draco and -"

"Yeah?" I interjected quickly.

"Yes. And its apparent from your records -"

"What records?" I interrupted again. I knew what he was talking about but I didn't want him to continue this conversation. I wanted to run back to my bed and bury my head under the covers forever.

"Your hospital records, including the results of your earlier bone marrow test," Dr. Warner explained patiently. "It's apparent from them that your body has not responded very well to the treatment."

A single droplet of sweat ran down the side of my cheek from my head. "Okay," I said evenly. The doctor studied my face closely to see if I knew what was coming. And I did.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" I asked as plainly as I could. My heartbeat was racing at a million miles an hour and I thought I was going to be sick.

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying at all," Dr. Warner said quickly. "But I must impress on you the point that I'm about to make. Chronic leukaemia is a slow and progressive form of leukaemia. It is possible to have suffered from it for months, sometimes even years without knowing. Obviously this hinders the possibility of a high success rate as there is no way it can be diagnosed quickly. We do not know how long you have suffered from leukaemia and I don't think we will ever find out either." He sighed and his eyes flickered downcast before meeting mine again. "This, and the fact that your body is not responding well to treatment means there is very little chance your body's cells will be strong enough to fight."

I knew. I knew it was inevitable anyway. But hearing something that I'd known all along from a different source still packed a punch to the gut. I didn't know what to do. I felt like screaming the office down. I felt like whipping my wand out and causing utter destruction to the world. No, I wanted to destroy something beautiful with my bare hands. I wanted to disfigure something like my life had been disfigured.

But I didn't. Folding my arms calmly I looked Dr. Warner squarely in the eyes.

"I'm not giving up," I said directly. "If this thing wants to grow inside of me then it's going to have a hell of a fight to put up with. Because I will do everything possible to beat this monster. It's not going to win."

The genuinely pleased smile from Dr. Warner assured me that I'd made the right decision.

* * *

"We've got to stop meeting like this!"

I knew that I looked like an idiot, standing there with a huge grin plastered onto my face, but I couldn't help it. I was beginning to feel that whenever I stepped out of Dr. Warner's office, meeting Katy was a routine. This time however, the culprit was her brother Jake and I must admit to selfishly pushing aside several stabs of guilt over the fact that Katy was currently busy in conversation with her mother leaving me alone with him.

"Oh, it's not so bad," I smiled widely. Jake's grin flickered slightly and I quickly added, "at least I didn't have a ball thrown at my head this time."

Jake chuckled. "Yeah, sorry about that, Katy has bad aim!"

"Don't blame your sister on your rotten ball skills," I replied. My mouth ached from smiling but I couldn't help it. I hoped it didn't look too obvious.

Jake stole a glance at his sister who was now trying to break from her mother's grip desperately to run over and talk to us. Her mother smiled a pained smile at me. She looked older and more haggard than the last time I'd seen her. I couldn't help but feel a slight wave of panic wash over me. I numbly waved to her.

"She's doing great," I said softly.

"Yeah, I'm really proud of her," Jake said, still looking at her. "It's hard to watch but," he turned back to me, "I believe in her."

I nodded. "So do I." It could have only been for a couple of seconds at the most but it seemed like Jake and I gazed into each other's for several hours. The hustle and bustle of the hospital faded and we were the only ones in the entire world. He was so achingly beautiful. It was his genuineness, his obvious admiration and protection for his family, especially Katy, that made him stunning, not just in looks but in personality too.

"Jake, Jake, Jake," Katy said breathlessly, bounding over to us with a pleading grin plastered onto her face, "Mom asked if you could take me to the park and I want Draco to come too, Draco do you want to come, say yes, say yes, say yes!"

"Yeah sure," Jake and I both said at the same time. We looked at each other and smiled shyly.

* * *

"It's just ... Really hard, you know?"

I nodded earnestly. I really did know what Jake was talking about as we both swung absentmindedly on the swings, watching Katy play with a boy on the climbing frame.

"All my friends at college talk about how annoying their little brothers and sisters are and I just want to tell them to appreciate them. It really breaks my heart to know that Katy probably won't live to see her next birthday." Jake paused. "They really don't know how lucky they are. You don't know what you've got until it's gone. I've never heard such a truer statement."

I nodded again. I felt a bit useless not offering any advice but I felt that I needed to tread carefully as so not to upset him.

"Do they know about her?" I probed gently. Jake shook his head.

"I don't want them to know," he said quietly. "Some things are ... Just best kept to yourself."

I nodded for the third time. "I know," I said understandingly.

I heard a small sob catch in his throat and I looked at him anxiously. My heart broke in two as I watched him drifting vaguely on the swing with his head drooped low. His shoulders were shaking and his face was buried in his hands. It was so awful, I wanted to sweep him up into a huge hug and tell him everything was going to be alright; that Katy would get better, beat the leukaemia and everyone's life would go back to normal.

But I didn't want to lie.

"Hey," I said, reaching a hand over and placing it on his shoulder. "It's ..." I paused. I didn't know what to say. It wasn't going to be alright and he and I both knew it. I squeezed his shoulder and rubbed it soothingly. "It's shit. It's just fucking unfair."

Jake looked up, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. He sniffed and gave me a small embarrassed smile. "It's life," he said quietly. He gulped and looked over at Katy through tear stained eyes. "It's just hard to watch her waste away in front of me while I'm living so healthy. What I wouldn't give ..."

He didn't complete the sentence. He didn't need to, I knew exactly how he felt. Because if I could take Katy's leukaemia away from her and bear the double load of hers and mine combined, I'd do it in an instant.

"Jake why are you crying?" Katy asked running over to us, her small face contorted into a look of concern. I looked over at Jake who had an angry expression on his face. What was his problem?

"That," he fumed, "is none of your business!" His face broke into a huge grin. "Do you know what happens to little girls that don't mind their own business?" He tickled Katy who shrieked with laughter.

"Stop!" she pleaded. "Draco, help!"

I held my hands up. "Hey I don't want to get tickled by Jake too!"

_But I wouldn't say no to his hands roaming over my body!_

Katy managed to break away from her brothers grip and ran off towards the slide. Jake jogged after her, turning round and giving me a wink. I smiled back. As I watched them play together, all their worries in the world temporarily gone, it reminded me of my childhood days. I didn't have much chance to experience what muggle children, or indeed normal children, did. I was never aloud to play in the park and I often used to watch other children enviously as they ran around laughing and enjoying life. I walked over to the roundabout, the laughter of Jake and Katy growing fainter, and sat on it alone, pushing myself around half-heartedly with my foot on the ground. Suddenly I stepped off and started pushing it around really fast before jumping on and looking up towards the sky. The candy-flossy clouds were becoming a swirling haze mixed in with shades of brilliant blue. I felt so weightless, so free, like I had no responsibilities at all. I threw my head back and laughed, my worries temporarily melting away in my childlike trance.

* * *

**Hi guys! I think I'm going to wait a while before uploading the next chapter. This is the second time in a row that I've put a chapter out which I'm not entirely pleased with, but hopefully you guys liked it. **

**I've got a couple of reviews lately that addressed some questions and I feel that I need to answer them, so to clarify a few things that people have asked about the story or the story process so far:**

With leukaemia being a muggle disease, Draco found out that he cannot cast any incantations of any kind to hide something that it has caused. This includes symptoms like bruises, bleeding and his hair loss, which is why he's taken to wearing a hat ... For the moment.

And for the next two questions, I must admit that before writing this story, there wasn't an awful lot I knew about leukaemia. Upon learning about it more and more however, I've gotten much more involved in learning about it, but still, all the information I know is just "text-book" information - it's not first hand.

I do not know enough about it to be able to answer every single questions like: **Why didn't he need a parent or guardian's consent in order to get medical treatment? **I really thought that you could get medical attention by yourself from the age of sixteen. I had no idea that it might be otherwise. I'll try and resolve this in the next chapter.

I'm also not informed enough to be able to answer this question: **How come Draco is feeling better from his chemotherapy? I know some stuff about chemotherapy, and from my experience, all it actually does is make you feel a lot worse for the time you take it. **Again, I had no idea that it makes you feel worse, from what I knew I thought it made you better. I apologise if I've got several facts wrong, but hopefully it's still realistic enough to make you want to keep reading!

Anyway, thanks to: **cmere2, insidemyworld, mesentente, melaminestel, princesspepper, astheyrefalling, ura, drivelikebandits, machiavellianorange, grey malwell, kaylyn, sheree, lucine and ran **for all your comments. Love you all, from Jordan x x


	10. Switch

_Happiness lies for those who cry, those who hurt, and those who tried, for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives._

* * *

"And so I said to that stupid old bat that if she didn't give me a higher mark then I'd write to my mother and tell her that she was a rotten teacher. I mean, who does she think she is, failing me? The work might not have been up to scratch, but at least I go to her shitty lessons! Believe it or not, reading signs from a tea cup is not the highlight of my life! She should be grateful that I'm turning up to her lessons in the first place! Doesn't she know that Slytherin's don't believe in all that star-gazing crap? We control our own destiny. We control our _own_ future. We don't need some astrology nonsense telling us when we're going to die or how much success we're going to achieve! I think we should boycott Trelawney's lessons for being a dopey old cow!" 

Pansy's pathetic speech was met with thunderous applause from the entire common room, except for me. I gave a loud sneer and turned a page of _Quidditch through the ages_, rustling it loudly hoping to attract someone's attention so they could see how I disapproved, but nobody gave me the slightest bit of attention and they hadn't for some time now. Though there must have been a specific point where it had happened, the gradual change in the power shift of Slytherin had happened over such a long period of time that it had gone unnoticed by me and I was a little surprised when I found I was no longer considered the leader of Slytherin house. I didn't care. I didn't need any of those losers anyway. But I still couldn't hide my fury, my utmost _shame _that my successor was Pansy fucking Parkinson. I couldn't stand to see her pug face smirking as she rallied up the troops for a spot of Gryffindor taunting. Although it was me doing the very same thing last year it seemed more horrible when she did it, gleefully conjuring up ways to make some innocent first or second years life hell because of the house they were sorted into. I'd voiced my opinions loudly on this a week ago and had been met by a crowd of twisted smirks.

"Awww, is 'ickle Draco sticking up for the goody-goody Gryffindors now?" Pansy had said in a childlike voice that made me want to smash her face in. "Hoping to get in Dumbledore's good books?"

"I've saw him talking to the boy wonder a couple of times," Blaise contributed spitefully. He was a true Slytherin all right; ready to turn on someone whenever necessary to save himself.

Pansy tutted. "Well, that won't do at all," she had said, shaking her head with a look of fake concern on her ugly face. "We can't have traitors in Slytherin. We all need to stick together. Isn't that right?" The gaggle behind her murmured their agreement. I stared at them through venomous slits. "So what shall we do to teach him a lesson?" Pansy pondered, examining her nails with a cruel smile playing upon her lips. Crabbe and Goyle stepped up menacingly behind her, cracking their knuckles with sneers on their oafish faces. My wand was in my robes over the other side of the common room and although I could have summoned it over to me in an instant, it would most likely be intercepted by someone in the crowd, so I'm not ashamed to say that I was feeling a flurry of fright in the pit of my stomach as they walked up to me threateningly. I looked over at Pansy's gleeful smile. She was enjoying the fact that I was at her mercy. I knew that she knew that I knew that she could call off Crabbe and Goyle at any moment, just like I could have done a few weeks back, but I didn't want to give her the satisfaction. I'd rather have had the brainless bastards slit my throat and leave me to bleed to death than to beg her for mercy.

Luckily at that point Professor Snape had walked in and immediately suspected tension in the room. "What are you all doing in here when you are expected to be in my lesson in no less than three minutes?" he asked crisply. Nobody answered and I couldn't help feel a slight twinge of victory that Pansy "the leader" had now hidden herself in the midst of the crowd so as not to get in any trouble. Professor Snape ushered us all out and the beating never took place and still hasn't up to this day. I don't know whether Pansy called them off or whether the stupid fuckers had enough brainpower between them to know that attacking the former leader of Slytherin wouldn't be the wisest thing to do under the watchful eye of Professor Snape. Whatever the reason, I was grateful.

It still cut me up to see her showing off, though. That story about Trelawney was a complete lie, no doubt. She wouldn't dare have the guts to say that to anyone. I satisfied myself by throwing a few more disapproving looks and omitting sneering sighs in her direction. After one particular loud sigh she stopped in mid-fabricated story and glared at me.

"Do you have something to say, Draco?" she asked pointedly.

"No," I said flatly, looking at her through a steely, yet bored gaze. "I don't."

"Good," she replied. "Now why don't you just go back to reading your pathetic little book while I talk to people that actually _matter_."

I tried to reply back that nobody used to like her until she obtained all this power but I was drowned out by the loud snickers of Pansy's supposedly cutting remark to me. I sighed frustratingly - for real this time. Was this how everyone used to act around me? So scared of getting pushed out of the so called popularity group that they were willing to drop all their own thoughts and feelings? So scared of the Malfoy wealth and name that they would do anything to be on its side? It was pathetic to watch, yet even more pathetic to think that I once relished in it. I gave them all a fuming glare and went back to reading my book, habitually feeling my head to see if my hat was in place. It was still there. One of Pansy's new regimes since gaining power was to try and take off my hat. Try as she might there wasn't a pulling spell strong enough to be able to snatch it from my head and I must admit to enjoying sitting with a bored expression on my face as she grew frustrated and flustered, blaming her wand for not performing the right spells properly. None of the half-wits managed to think that I might have put a reversing charm on the hat. If any of them had a single brain cell they might have worked out that performing a spell that pushed the hat further onto my head would actually be the key to taking it off.

"... And that's when he got down on one knee and said, 'Pansy, without you my life is incomplete. Please don't leave me!' Then I said, 'Darling I have to, but I'll be back soon and then we can marry,' and then I rode off without looking back once! I mean, he _may _be the future King of England but he's still a dirty muggle!"

I guffawed loudly. I couldn't help it. It was so hilarious to not only hear Pansy's outrageous lies, but for the idiots to drink it all in with looks of glazed adoration on their faces. Pansy stopped blabbering and glared at me, a twisted contemptuous look of hatred contorting her features. Her fists were bunched up so tightly her knuckles were turning white and just when it looked like she might break her fingers from clenching too hard, she flew out of her seat and stormed over to me in a rage. I lazily grabbed my wand from my robe pocket and muttered a quick incantation that left her rooted to the spot, her pig-like face just inches from mine. If possible, she looked more uglier than ever.

I rose slowly from my seat, grabbing my book in one hand and still holding my wand in the other. I met the whole rooms eyes but none of the fucking cowards dared to look into mine. Their heads drooped low as I passed them and they knew I still had power over them.

* * *

Katy was weak. 

There was no doubt about it, she was losing this battle and we all knew it. I wasn't sure whether she knew it herself. If she did, she certainly kept up her bright little façade, joking, laughing, singing and dancing her way through life. If she knew, then she was one of the toughest people I had ever met. It was hard to think that when I saw her with Jake two weeks ago she was playing happily in a park and when I saw her yesterday, she was bed-ridden.

I pushed the thoughts out of my mind; they were making me cry and I didn't want to fucking cry in the middle of the library where everybody could see and laugh at me. Jamming my hat further onto my head I walked sharply to the medical section and threw myself onto the floor there. I wiped premature tears away fiercely with the back of my hand and pulled a book from the shelf to get engrossed into. It was a battered copy of _Diagnosis SOS _but it would still work. An idea had recently formed in my head. It was a sickening thought and I didn't really want to know, but like watching a car crash, I just _had _to. I needed to know. I brought the book close to my lips.

"Diagnosis: Muggle disease, Leukaemia," I whispered softly into the pages, "Symptoms: Excessive bleeding from the gums and nose, very easily bruised, complete loss of appetite, night sweats - both hot and cold, severely aching joints and bed-ridden."

I pulled the book away and looked into the pages, wanting nothing more than to hex the book out of my sight. But before I could even ponder on this wishful thought, the looping calligraphic letters formed slowly on the yellow pages. They were about to inform me of Katy's situation.

"Malfoy?"

I jumped like a gunshot had fired off behind me and threw the book onto the shelf.

"Potter!" I exclaimed breathlessly, and then recomposed myself. "Potter," I repeated coolly. "What do you want?"

"What are you doing?" Potter asked enquiringly, looking at me through narrowed emerald eyes. His face spelled suspicion but his tone was soft.

"Reading," I said shortly. He didn't reply for a while and just stared at me through those glittering green spheres. He gazed at me for so long I grew uncomfortable and shifted my position slightly. I was still sitting down and having him tower over me didn't do much for my confidence. He took his eyes away from me and let them slowly wander to the book I had just threw on the shelf. It lay there alone, accusingly staring up at him and I felt my face redden.

"What do you want?" I snapped hotly causing him to focus his gaze on me again. "Did you just come here to spy on me or was there an actual reason?" I stood up quickly, ignoring the loud cracks in my knees and came face to face with Potter.

"No, there's a reason," Potter said politely. He reached over and selected a book from the shelf. "I need this to do my homework."

"Oh," I said, feeling suddenly foolish. "Oh. Well, okay. Right. Well, I need to go anyway."

Potter nodded, looking at the lone book on the shelf and then back to me. "Okay. Bye, Malfoy."

"Yeah, bye," I called over my shoulder, pushing past him and making my way to the exit fast. I still didn't feel comfortable around him. He was my nemesis after all, he was my number one enemy yet at the same time he was the only one that understood. He was my complete opposite, everything he believed in I didn't and vice versa. We were equals yet at the same time it was so unequal between us. He was Potter, I was Malfoy. He was Gryffindor, I was Slytherin. He was the boy who lived ... And I wasn't.

_Fuck._ I hated getting jealous over Potter. I couldn't help it though. Just one single thought could lead me to him and before I knew it, I was thinking, no, obsessing over him and that stupid scar. He had the whole weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders because of that lightning-shaped permanent imprint tattooed on his forehead, yet I envied him so much.

_People only like him because he's famous_, I thought viciously as I stomped down the twisting dungeons to my bedroom. It was true. Though he hadn't been attacked with the ugly stick, no girls would fawn around him like they did now. That Chang girl would never have looked at him twice had it not been for that fucking scar. It must be that, he has nothing else going for him.

_And what the hell did he mean when he told me was worried about me_, I thought, reflecting back on the words he had said to me a couple of weeks back. In all honesty, there hadn't been a day gone by where they hadn't echoed through my mind. The words were few but effectively powerful and I hated him for saying them to me. I didn't want him to fucking worry about me. I wanted ... Well, I don't know who I wanted to worry about me, but not him. Anyone but him. I wanted someone to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay but not fucking Potter. Never.

I stomped into my room, annoyed and agitated at being so obsessed with that freak. _I hate him, I hate him, I hate him_, I drilled into my head as I paced up and down my room with clenched fists. But the fact that I couldn't even lie to myself properly riled me up so much I kicked my bed hard as I passed it.

The truth was, I didn't know if I did hate him or not anymore. He was Potter. Annoying, goody-goody, scar-ridden, four-eyed, messy-haired, golden boy Potter. But he was the only one who knew something was wrong with me. I hadn't made it easy for him. I hadn't made it easy for anyone what with putting all these barriers up around me, but he was the only one who had the persistence to break them down gently, and although I hadn't exactly opened up to him yet, he was closer to the real me than anyone had ever been. Maybe closer than I had ever been with myself. And that scared me. It really petrified me, knowing that my cool, calm and collected façade could be shattered at any moment. By none other than Harry fucking Potter. And I think that's what infuriated me the most. I wanted someone to care, but why did it have to be him? Couldn't he just mind his own business for once?

I flung myself onto my bed. My lower back was in severe pain, but I had grew so tired that I couldn't be bothered to adjust my position, I didn't have the energy at all. I felt my eyes closing slowly, powerless to stop them and fell to sleep with Potter on my mind.

* * *

The sight of food made me sick. 

I had suffered a serious loss of appetite since being diagnosed and could now only manage half a meal a day, if that. But what I hadn't realised was that not eating would actually put me off the stuff altogether. I don't know if it was the actual food or the sight of my peers shovelling it in so greedily inside their mouths that made me nauseous, but either way, I couldn't bear it. Unfortunately, Professor Snape, who had taken a great disliking to me since I "publicly humiliated him" as he put it in one of my many recent detentions, insisted that I come down to the great hall anyway, "even if I did want to look like a skeleton."

Trapped between the bulging figures of Crabbe and Goyle wasn't my idea of a fun way to while away an hour. They kept squashing me mercilessly with their fat figures, Pansy throwing me triumphant smirks from across the table. I rolled my eyes and looked down at my plate. The food tonight matched the meals that were held on special occasions such as the first and last day of term, but I still couldn't bring myself to eat it. Instead, I pushed it around miserably with my fork, trying to ignore the various kicks that were viciously aimed at my shins while people stared at me innocently through wide eyes.

After one particular violent kick, I winced. Pansy snickered. I threw her a dirty look, but then narrowed my eyes at a sight behind her. It was Potter and he was ... well, _watching _me. He wasn't even trying to hide what he was doing either, he was blatantly staring at me. The weasel and the mudblood were engrossed in their own conversation and didn't register what Harry was doing. But I did. I gave him a funny look and glanced down at my plate again. A few seconds later I brought my eyes back up to the hall slowly and found myself staring into his gaze again. What the fuck was he looking at me for?

A sharp kick that connected with my kneecap made me jump sharply and my full cup of pumpkin juice ended up in my lap. Pansy led the whole table into erupting laughter as she shrieked unnecessarily loudly. I gave everyone a disgusted look and got up from the table, feeling both Snape's and Potter's eyes on me. I marched out of the hall defiantly and only broke into a run when I was out of the pair's prying eyes.

When I reached the end of the corridor I heard footsteps coming after mine. I didn't dare turn around, fearing that I might trip and then Professor Snape would really let me have it, so I carried on running. I tried to will my body to go faster, but my legs were beginning to be bogged down with the familiar dull ache. Snape would really lay into me once he caught me, but right now I didn't care, I just needed to get away.

"Malfoy!"

To my horror, I didn't hear Snape's usual drawl. Snatching a quick look behind me I was greeted with the sight of Potter trying his best to catch up with me. I hurled myself out of the nearest door to my left and ran outside into the rain.

"Malfoy, stop!"

"Leave me alone, Potter!" My voice was shrill and pleading but it was no use, Potter didn't relent as he sprinted after me, getting closer by the second.

"Malfoy, I just want to talk!"

"Fuck off!" I screamed into the wind, bullet-like raindrops hitting me in the face fiercely. I took another chance and glanced at Potter behind me as I ran. He was only a few feet away now.

I turned back around and registering it a split second too late, spied the uneven bump in the ground. I tripped over it, pain shooting up and down my leg as I fell to the floor. A second later, Potter was crouching over me.

"Are you all right?" he asked breathlessly. And I don't know why those four words made such an impact but they did. Maybe it was because I was tired of running away from everything and everyone. Maybe I was tired of falling when I thought I was on an optimistic rise. Whatever it was, they hit me in my heart hard. My face crumpled up and I remember seeing concern wash over Potter's face before he turned into a tearful hazy blur.

"No," I howled between loud sobs. "I'm not all right. I'M NOT FUCKING ALL RIGHT."

Potter didn't respond.

"I'm -"

_Say it._

"I'm -"

_Say it._

"I'm ... I'm ..."

I suddenly felt my hand being clasped by Potter's. They were warm despite the cold weather and it suddenly made me realise how freezing mine were.

"You're not all right at all are you?" Potter said quietly. It was a statement, not a question.

Gulping, I shook my head. "I'm not," I whispered, echoing him. The rain was beginning to clear now and the dull grey clouds that had dominated the sky were being pushed aside by fresh white ones.

"Malfoy, I -"

"Don't," I spat quickly. I knew what was coming and I wanted nothing more than to punch him in the jaw as hard as I could to stop him saying the next sentence.

"Malfoy, I-"

"Don't, stop it. Just don't say anything," I warned him insistently.

_**Don't speak**_

"I know, Malfoy."

_**I know just what you're saying**_

"You don't have to hide it anymore."

_**So please stop explaining**_

"You can get some help."

_**Don't tell me cos it hurts**_

"I'm really worried about you."

I bit down on my lip hard to try and stop the tears flowing down my cheeks but it didn't work. I fell into Potter's arms, crying a mixture of bitterness and gratefulness.

_**Don't speak**_

_**I know what you're thinking**_

_**And I don't need your reasons**_

He took off my hat slowly and I felt his fingers stroke the few strands of hair on my head delicately. I cried harder, knowing that I was loved and didn't deserve it. I thought back to all the times I had been horrible to Potter and sobbed uncontrollably. He didn't react for a few minutes, just therapeutically stroking my scalp. He then cupped my chin and forced me to look up at him. His eyes were red too, but there was strength in them whereas I looked through eyes of failure and weakness.

"When did it happen?"

I gave an embittered laugh and looked down to the floor. "You mean when did I turn into an ugly cunt with no hair that bruises and bleeds a lot?"

Potter gave a low, sharp gasp at this and I looked up at him again. His face was a picture of disbelief.

"Malfoy ..." he began in a choked voice that implied that I'd really offended him with what I said. I just knew why he was so hurt and didn't want to hear what came next.

_**Don't tell me cos it hurts.**_

"...You're beautiful."

* * *

**Lyrics taken from** _Don't speak _**by** _No Doubt_**. I'd never even thought of using a song in a fic before but as I was writing this last scene, I had this song playing and I realised that it just fit in with the whole scene - well, I thought so anyway. An update won't be coming for a while, I'm afraid... Take care guys and please review. Love always, Jordan x**


	11. Messy

**Let me first of all apologise for the amount of time it took to upload this chapter! I have been so busy with my work! And then can I secondly apologise for the lack of ... Well, talent in this chapter. I really don't like it and am only really adding it to the story because I've took long enough and know that if I don't, I'll never get the next one up! Onto the reviews:**

**Cmere2:** Yay I'm glad I made you feel better. (I know it's been a long time, but is there any chance that you remember what was the original fiction that made you nauseated and sick - it intrigues me!) And yeah, by all means, feel free to bear my children! Can we call one of them Jordan Junior?

**Faite:** Omg thank you that was such a nice review! Really, it was so nice. Ah, I'm all gushy now! Thank you hun!

**PrincessPepper:** Haha I so wanted to write that scene in like, chapter five or something but I had to hold out for ages and now thankfully Harry can help Draco ... Right? Well, we'll see. :P

**Insidemyworld:** Sorry I took so long! Lol, thanks for your review hun!

**Malfoy's Kitten:** Ah, I feel so mean now lol. Sorry I took so long to update!

And also can I please say thank you to: **HPfreakout, ura-hd, ChronoclockXVII, BrokenInside, SOsad, CaramelAriana, Jill4, crzymoon, Jinxx, Euphory, textual healing, Reptilian Goddess, AmethystxX, Caro and BioHazrdusMatrial3!** Thank you for all your reviews guys and gals!

**And in case any of you have forgotten how the last chapter ended (And I know I did!) here's the last part of chapter ten:**

_**Don't speak**_

_**I know what you're thinking**_

_**And I don't need your reasons**_

He took off my hat slowly and I felt his fingers stroke the few strands of hair on my head delicately. I cried harder, knowing that I was loved and didn't deserve it. I thought back to all the times I had been horrible to Potter and sobbed uncontrollably. He didn't react for a few minutes, just therapeutically stroking my scalp. He then cupped my chin and forced me to look up at him. His eyes were red too, but there was strength in them whereas I looked through eyes of failure and weakness.

"When did it happen?"

I gave an embittered laugh and looked down to the floor. "You mean when did I turn into an ugly cunt with no hair that bruises and bleeds a lot?"

Potter gave a low, sharp gasp at this and I looked up at him again. His face was a picture of disbelief.

"Malfoy ..." he began in a choked voice that implied that I'd really offended him with what I said. I just knew why he was so hurt and didn't want to hear what came next.

_**Don't tell me cos it hurts.**_

"...You're beautiful."

**

* * *

**

_It's funny how when you go through a year nothing seems to change but when you look back everything is different_

* * *

_**Dearest Draco,**_

_**To say that we are appalled would be an understatement. We are absolutely livid that you are sharing a school with someone that is suffering from that dirty muggle disease.**_

_**I couldn't bear to look it up myself so I ordered one of the house elves to find information on this leukaemia infection. It is not contagious, so you mustn't worry too much darling, but be sure not to associate yourself with that person. It will not taint your blood but it will certainly taint our name. Your father is furious and is planning to write a strongly-worded letter to Dumbledore about the type of riff-raff that he is welcoming with open arms to the school. Disgusting.**_

_**Your father also sends his praise over the initiative you are showing. Taking the mark on the eve of your birthday is a most excellent idea and the dark lord thinks so too.**_

_**Proud of you darling. Keep up the good work.**_

_**Love always,**_

_**Mother.**_

I calmly reread the letter twice and then placed it down onto the table with a slightly shaking hand. It contained everything I thought it would. No surprises there. Nothing that wasn't expected.

My eyes scanned over the words written in my mothers looping calligraphy. Dirty. Disease. Infection. Taint. I snatched the letter from the table and read it again, the words jumping out and taunting me.

Why was this such a letdown? I expected this. It didn't come as any real shock. I prepared for the worst and this was it. My family honoured their name more than their son. I knew that already.

Dirty. Disease. Infection. Taint.

I was going to die.

Dirty. Disease. Infection. Taint.

And they weren't going to care.

Dirty. Disease. Infection. Taint.

As I prepared to die.

Dirty. Disease. Infection. Taint.

They prepared to not care.

Dirty. Disease. Infection. Taint.

And I already knew that. I nodded my head slowly as my mind absorbed my mothers words. They were beginning to look like swirling patterns of nothingness, they had lost all their meaning.

Dirty. Disease. Infection. Taint.

Or maybe I had just lost all feeling.

I was numb.

I let out a deafening roar that made my throat hurt but I didn't care as angry tears welled up in my eyes and I ripped the letter into tiny pieces, destroying every part of my family with it. My frustration was expressed through hurt, angry cries of defeat and desperation, as the torn up letter fluttered to the floor in bits. I stamped on them for good measure. I wiped my tears away roughly with the sleeve of my robes. It hurt. I did it again, dragging the fabric against my skin roughly so sore, red blotches appeared on my cheeks. I yanked off my hat and stared in the mirror with hatred. I clawed at my scalp with the ferocity of a cat, digging my nails in and dragging them down my skull. There'd be scars there later. I did it again even harder with this thought. It hurt so much I let out a fresh flurry of tears while pathetic sobs caught in my throat. I swiped at my face with more hatred while my reflection in the mirror did the same. I clenched my teeth and I watched my counterpart do the same. Our heads were shaking with fury identically. Our fists were bunching up in the same way. And we both punched the mirror letting out all our frustrations at the same time. It shattered into a million pieces, shards of glass falling beside the remains of the letter. I picked up a large shard of glass roughly and squeezed it into my palm hard. I let out a yelp as I quickly dropped it to the floor. It shocked me at how much it actually hurt. Nursing my hand, I watched in fascination as blood started to spill out from the deep wound in my palm. I sank to my knees surrounded by the glass and continued to watch as the blood, the leukaemia-ridden blood seeped from my palm and through my fingers. I wasn't numb at all. I could feel pain. Droplets of bloods dripped onto my carpet and I watched it stain the floor just like it had stained me. Large crimson drops fell onto pieces of the letter and I watched as it drenched the words that my mother had written with such disgust.

Dirty. Disease. Infection. Taint.

* * *

"Hey," he said softly. 

I turned around, startled. I thought I was alone by the tree, observing the majestic building of Hogwarts with mild interest, but now he was here with me.

"Hello," I replied back uncomfortably.

He sat down cross legged next to me and watched as a first years flying lesson took place in the distance. "Only seems like yesterday that that was us," he said. He turned to me and broke into a grin, the smile lighting up his whole face, crinkling his magnificent eyes and draining away all the worry that the boy who lived carried on his shoulders.

"Yeah," I mumbled back. I felt so uncomfortable. I didn't know what to say to Potter. Yesterday he'd told me I was beautiful, how was I supposed to react to that? The boy who I had fucking hated for so long told me that I was beautiful. Did he expect me to fall into his open arms and tell him I thought he was too? No fucking way. I hated him for so long. I hated him. No, I _hate _him. I still do.

"Draco ... I was just, er ... Well, I was thinking that er ... See, I had this thought and -"

"Spit it out Potter," I snapped. I knew what he was going to say and I didn't want him to say it. I wanted to shut his fat mouth before any of the words could come out and hit me in the face. He knew. He fucking knew my secret and I hated him and I hated myself and I hated everyone for it. I'd exposed myself by crying and let him console me. I _never _cried in front of anyone. Malfoy's never cry.

"Well it's just that -"

_Shut up._

"- I was reading up on -"

_Shut up._

"Leukaemia and it says that -"

_Shut the fuck up._

"- You may suffer from loss of appetite -"

_Shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up just shut up shut up shut up._

" - Night sweats, excessive bleeding and bruising and -"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP."

Potter flinched as my words hit him at full force. I felt a twinge of satisfaction at seeing the fear in his eyes.

"I know what the fuck I suffer from Potter," I spat at him. "Do you know how I know? Do you know how the hell I know? From these." I rolled up my sleeve and thrust the ugly purplish bruises in his face. "Look Potter, look! You're getting a first hand look at the ugly fucking freak show here, better pay attention."

"Draco, stop -"

"SHUT UP," I yelled. I thrust my palm into his face, noticing with pleasure the way his head dodged to the side as he thought I was going to hit him. "Look Potter, infected blood. See the wound? This is what we sufferers get. Better not get too close! You might suffer from the disease and fucking die like me."

"I'm just worried -"

"Well don't be!"

"But I am!"

"WELL DON'T BE!"

"I can't help it!"

"Just go away and leave me alone."

"Draco, I'm just -"

"What _is _it with you and poking your nose into my fucking business?" I roared.

"I'm only trying to help," he cried shrilly.

"Help? HELP? I don't fucking need your help alright? Brave little golden boy Potter. Always save the day don't you? Well guess what Potter? This is one solution you wont be able to solve. Does that come as a shock to you? Huh? You can't even ask your precious fucking Dumbledore for help out of this one. I'm not going to get any better. I. Am. Going. To. Die. Get that through your fucking head. Not even that scar, that fucking thing on your head that's plagued me for so long can save me. That thing that has held me back so much. That fucking _thing _is the reason that my father fucking _hates _me and compares me to all the time. Not even that will save me Potter. So instead of coming up to me and acting like a pathetic bastard who has nothing better to do than save the day and be a hero and show off like you do all the time, why don't you go fuck yourself or your little weasel and mudblood friend and leave me the hell alone because I FUCKING HATE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH."

You could have cut the tension with a knife. And if there was a knife to cut the tension with I would have gladly took it and slit my own throat with it. Someone had shown me affection. Someone had tried to help. Someone had tried to break the barriers and connect with the real me. And as usual I had just let them go. I was so fucking stupid.

I was almost afraid to look at Potter now. I thought he might be angry and hit me which would hurt. I thought he might be in floods of tears which would hurt even more. But as I slowly raised my eyes from their downcast position on the floor, I was met with a wounded, numb look. I sneered openly at him and inclined my head back towards the flying lesson pretending to be interested in it.

He didn't move for a while. I could feel his slightly confused gaze boring into me but I didn't move a muscle. Finally, he slowly got up to his feet and walked away. I watched him walk into the distance, his head drooped low, his feet shuffling, his hands in his pockets and it took everything inside of me to not burst into tears right there and then. Instead I sank back against the solid trunk of the tree and let my tensed body relax. I stayed like that for a while, the scene that just took place running through my mind. I tried my hardest to forget about it, but I couldn't.

I felt a small tickling on the back of my hand and I looked down to see what it was. A small, insignificant spider was crawling as fast as it could from my hand trying to escape from my infected skin. I watched in mild fascination as it got to the end of my hand, stopped warily before running back the other way and finding itself stuck. I felt satisfied as I saw the puny thing unable to do anything, unable to get to its destination knowing that I had power over its pathetic life. And then I felt a sickening feeling wash over me. At once I lowered my hand to the ground gently and watched as the spider stepped from me onto a blade of grass. I folded my arms and expected it to run as far away from me as it could, but it didn't. Instead, it hung around, those eight little legs working fast. After a while I saw a tiny thread of white and realizing that it was spinning a web.

As I watched it weaving its delicate threads, the image of Katy popped into my mind. I could see her clearly, yet I wasn't noticing her appearance. I could just see the things that made her who she was. She's strong, courageous, funny, bright, cheerful, attributes that anyone would want for themselves. I used to think that those sorts of emotions were worthless and for the weak, but Katy is anything but. And then there was her family too. Her mother, fighting so hard to keeping it all together yet becoming more broken every time I see her, and the same with Jake. They were both struggling to be strong for Katy yet they were terrified inside. And so was I. And not just for myself, for her too. I was actually petrified at the thought of this evilness killing Katy, she's just a child - she's barely had a chance to live. And then there were people like my parents who deserved it -

I gasped at the words that had infiltrated my mind. There were people like my parents who deserved it? Did I truly think that? They had raised me all their lives and now I wanted them to be killed off by a muggle's disease? After all they'd done?

But what had they done, really? Nothing, except for raising me into an arrogant, selfish, materialistic hateful bastard. They'd taught me all the things that were wrong in life and I hated them for it. But they didn't deserve leukaemia. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

And then Potter's face drifted into my mind. My sworn enemy turned caring acquaintance. The situation between us had been thrown completely off balance and I didn't know where I now stood. Do I carry on hating him? Do I open myself up to him? _Could _I open myself up to him? This was Potter - Harry Potter - I was talking about. I used to be unable to look at him without feeling barely-controllable bouts of rage and now I was thinking of opening up to him? It was just all too much, too fast. It was becoming messy and complicated, like a ... like a ...

I looked down and saw the shimmering web, with the spider nesting below it. It ran through several blades of grass, perfectly complicated and intricately woven. It's tangled mess was organized and I smiled fondly, in spite of the confusion I was feeling.

... Like a spiders web.

* * *

"Malfoy - Professor Dumbledore wants to see you right away." 

All heads turned towards me as the messenger left the Slytherin common room and I scowled back at the inquisitive faces before getting up from my seat slowly and making my way towards the exit.

"Well, well, well, Draco's been summoned to the great head?" Pansy mused loudly. "I wonder what splendid deed he performed to be allowed _such _a privilege?"

"Shut it Parkinson," I snapped irritably. She snickered in reply.

"Have fun," she yelled sarcastically as I clambered through the hole into the dank corridor. What the hell did old Dumbledore want with me? I hadn't done anything wrong lately - besides, he'd never called me up to see him before, even when I _had _been making trouble, so why start now?

I stopped in my tracks, my shoulders stiffening. I could murder Potter. Harry fucking Potter cannot mind his own business. I stormed towards the entrance to Dumbledore's office with new found energy fuelled by rage. I knew what this was about, all right. Blabbermouth Potter couldn't keep it quiet and had gone and squealed to Dumbledore.

_Bet they had a right good laugh over me,_ I fumed, marching over to the stone statue that guarded the entrance. I waited there for a couple of seconds expecting the thing to move, but it stayed rooted to the spot, gazing down at me. I tapped my foot impatiently and then with an irritated sigh, pushed as hard as I could on the statue.

It roared in anger and I stumbled back in fright. It didn't move, however, and my heavy breathing grew more relaxed. How the fucking hell was I meant to get into his office if it was guarded by unfriendly stone figures? I decided to walk back up to it and knock on its chest politely. It gave another deafening roar and I shrunk back away from it again.

"Mr. Malfoy, could I please ask you to refrain from taunting the stone figurines?" came a sharp voice from behind me. I spun around and was greeted by old McGonagall. "One day they might find reason to believe you are attacking them and I'm afraid that the school cannot guarantee that you will escape with all your limbs intact."

I gave her a poisonous sneer. "I've got to see Dumbledore actually."

"_Professor _Dumbledore, you mean?"

"Yeah, him."

She gave me a sharp look and I wondered whether I'd pushed my luck too far. She seemed to be debating that too, before deciding to take the high road. In a clear voice she said, "rhubarb candies." The horrible statue at once turned polite and moved out of the way. Without saying my thanks, I shoved my way past her and the statue and walked up the stairs, before realizing that they moved on their own anyway.

I soon came face to face with an oak door that swung open importantly when I arrived. Walking into the office, I couldn't help but gaze around in awe. Hundreds of little trinkets adorned the place. Some were marching up and down the shelves, some were flying around the room, some were even appearing and disappearing whenever they felt like it.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy."

I spun around like I'd been caught out. "P-Professor," I stumbled. He smiled a creased smile and indicated me towards the seat opposite the desk at where he sat. I flopped into the chair and stare at him defiantly. He didn't say anything for a while and just stared at me. I started to grow uncomfortable and related the experience to when I sat in the doctors office. Dumbledore's eyes flickered for a moment and I hastily put the thought out of my mind. I wouldn't put it past him to be reading my thoughts at that very moment.

"So ..." He trailed off and gave me a small smile.

"So, what?" I replied dully.

"Is there anything on your mind, Mr. Malfoy?"

"No," I lied, "there isn't."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I spat. "Why does everyone always ask me that?"

"Because sometimes facial expressions simply aren't very good liars."

I shifted in my seat.

"And sometimes," he continued, "it is obvious when something is playing upon one's mind. So much so that you don't even need to look at the face. A slight shake in the voice, perhaps. Maybe a slight tremble in the hand ..."

I squeezed my hands in between my thighs and clenched hard to will them to stop trembling. Stupid fucking Dumbledore was always right.

"Mr. Malfoy, I know -"

"Just stop," I said suddenly. He obeyed abruptly.

"Look, I know what you're about to say and I know that you know that I know what you're about to say, but I don't want to hear it."

"But I can -"

"Just shut up!" I yelled angrily. "I can deal with this on my own. And lets face it, one less Slytherin in your care wouldn't be that much of a bad thing now for you now, would it?"

"You really think I feel this way?" he said calmly.

"Yeah," I muttered venomously.

He sighed deeply. "Fine," he replied.

"Fine," I hit back. "Is that all you wanted?"

He gave the briefest of nods.

"Good," I spat. I got up from my seat. "Because you wouldn't have really helped me anyway, would you? Huh?" I made my way over to the door. "You _want _me to die because of my background, don't you?"

He didn't reply which infuriated me more.

"See! You're just sitting there watching me with that stupid expression on your face. You don't even care about me, do you? I could fucking die right now and you'd just probably laugh." I swung open the oak door and flung myself out of it. I waited until I heard the heavy slam from behind me before I allowed the tears to flow.

* * *

**Ack I don't care what anybody says, this chapter sucks, especially the ending. I actually wrote the first and second half three weeks apart from each other as I've been bogged down with work. I always knew this was going to be quite crappy, because nothing really happens in this one except for a lot of dialogue. I'm pleased I've got it out of the way though because the rest of the chapters all have exciting things happen in them which I'm looking forward to writing! Anyway, please review and once again I'm so sorry about the amount of time it took to upload this chapter! I only hope the next one will be quicker (but I'm not promising! ****And go read my other fic, Seven, people! I like it better than this one! Take care my lovelies, love Jords x**


	12. Lost

**Let me apologise again for the long wait for this chapter! I actually wrote two thirds of it in two days, but the beginning part was written ages ago. A huge amount of work forced me to abandon it for a while though unfortunately, and it's only recently I've had a chance to complete it. I quickly decided to morph two of the chapters together as well, so hopefully this won't read too "disjointed." **

**Can I say thank you, as always, to everyone who reviewed:** Princesspepper, AmethystxX, HPfreakout, Reptilian Goddess, Malfoy's Kitten, InsideMyWorld, ura-hd, Chilton Puff, Mistress Vamp, ChronoClockXVII, Bre, mou, CaramelAriana, dianashirly, Lyra Skywalker, Faite, Gya, dracoslilmuggle, MelaminEstel **and **Lucine**! Thank you guys, you know I always appreciate reviews of any kind!**

And now, on with the show! Enjoy!

* * *

_Dying seems less sad than having lived too little_

* * *

It was like a car crash that was taking place right in front of your eyes. You didn't want to look, but you just _had _to. And this is what today felt like. I didn't want to see Katy's condition but I _had _to. I knew that she would be in worse shape and I tried to mentally prepare myself for it but I knew that as soon as I set eyes on her I'd break. I'd see her mother, wasting away too and break down more. And I'd see Jake... But that wasn't such a bad thing...

I hated myself for it - I felt like the lowest kind of shit. How could I be fantasising about a guy when his little sister is in hospital? I needed to stop thinking with my dick, but I couldn't help it. I was feeling sorry for Katy, and that was no fucking lie, but all the same I couldn't help feel a twinge of excitement whenever I saw Jake. I tried to justify it in any way that I could but when it came down to it, there was nothing I could justify it with. It was wrong to think this way and I needed to stop. Easier said than done. My now fully erected dick was straining against the fabric of my pants and try as I might to ignore it, it kept on throbbing until I finally had to give in and sort it out.

But upon reaching down an impatient hand to my member, I felt a sharp pain shoot through my dick, which brought me to my knees. My balls were squashed mercilessly against the floor, which hurt me even more. After drawing in a couple of sharp breaths, I slowly managed to wriggle myself out of my pants and inspect my balls carefully. They appeared to be a little bigger than usual. Was that because I hadn't wanked off in a while? It had been a couple of days now... I felt them with delicate fingers but had to draw them away immediately - they caused too much pain. They hadn't felt like this yesterday, it must have just come on recently. Maybe another reminder of what I was suffering from ...?

In a twisted fucked-up sort of way, the irony of the situation was hilarious.

* * *

"Can I speak to you?"

"You already are."

A pause. Shifting from foot to foot.

"So ... Is it okay to talk then?"

"Well if it wasn't I couldn't do anything about it now, could I?"

I was being rude. If anything, it was Potter that should have been rude to me. I should have been the one to approach him, I should have been the one to ask if it was okay to talk. He had been nothing but helpful to me and I had thrown that back into his face completely. But as usual, my fucking Malfoy pride stood in the way of the situation and I continued to cross my arms and remain stony-faced sitting against the trunk of a tree in the school grounds. If I was brave it would have been the whomping willow, crushing me too death right now.

Potter sat down next to me. I huffed loudly.

"I er ... well, I was thinking that, well ... "

I made it harder for him to spit out what he was trying to say by glaring at him, my arms still folded.

"Draco, I -"

"On first name terms now are we, _Potter_?" I sneered, emphasising my distain.

"I don't know what you're going through," he said, ignoring my jibe, "but I want to try and -"

"Yeah you don't know," I interjected. "Nobody fucking does."

"We still want to try and help," he pressed earnestly.

"We who?" I asked sharply.

His floundering face devoid of earnestness and filled with confusion said it all.

"Nobody wants to help me," I said bitterly, casting my gaze to the grass.

It was silent for a moment.

"I do," he spoke up softly.

"That's because you want to poke your nose into everybody's business," I lashed out. "You probably just want to make sure I die properly."

It was silent again.

"Do you really believe that?" he asked.

The words were reminiscent of what Dumbledore had said to me. And when I had replied to old Dumbledore, I had rather enjoyed telling him the truth; that yes, I truly did believe it. But when it came to Potter, the lies couldn't roll off my tongue.

So I stayed silent.

"So that's a no," he said. His voice had no signals of cockiness in it but it infuriated me nonetheless.

"What is your fucking problem?" I roared, scrambling up from my spot and storming away.

"What the hell is yours?" he hit back, getting up and following me. He jogged up to me and walked at my pace. "Why can't you just see that I'm trying to fucking help here?"

"I DON'T WANT YOUR HELP!"

"YES YOU DO!"

"AND HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW?"

"BECAUSE IT'S WRITTEN ALL OVER YOUR FACE!"

I stopped abruptly and turned to him. He was shaking slightly.

"Your so-called friends might not have noticed, but I have," he continued. "The sneers, the smirks, oh they're all still there. But not as profound as they were before, are they Malfoy? You're keeping them all hidden." His eyes flickered upwards. "Under that hat."

I blinked stupidly. He stared at me through those fucking green eyes and I felt a strong urge to gouge them out with my fingernails. Instead I settled with a lame, "perceptive, aren't we?" I finished it with a smirk.

He shook his head, almost disgustedly. "Still not the same old smirk, I'm afraid."

"Fuck you," I spat, walking away again.

"Do you know what your problem is?" he shouted, jogging to catch up with me again.

"That you're around?"

"That you're too fucking proud."

I stopped again to face him. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," he said blankly.

I smiled triumphantly and began to walk away.

"Except for the fact that you're dying," he finished.

I stopped in my tracks and stayed rooted to the spot. I didn't want to turn around in fear of bursting into tears upon looking at him and when I heard his footsteps making their way towards me, I put on my best don't-give-a-fuck façade to fool him.

"So what?" I snapped.

He shook his head, definitely disgusted this time. "I always knew you were weak Malfoy, but this is pathetic. You don't care that you're dying?"

I missed a beat.

"No," I lied. The pause was too long to trick him.

"You're fucking weak Malfoy," he hissed, acid dripping from his tongue. "I don't have any idea what you're going through but I would never -"

"NO YOU FUCKING DON'T!" I cried.

He flinched slightly.

"You don't have any fucking idea what I'm going through so quit acting like you do!"

"I'M NOT ACTING LIKE I DO," he roared back. "I JUST WANT TO HELP. WHAT, DO YOU WANT ME TO GET YOUR ILLNESS TOO SO I'LL UNDERSTAND HOW YOU FEEL?"

"NO!" I roared.

He flinched again much more visibly.

"No I fucking don't," I cried. "I wouldn't wish this on anybody - not even you, and believe me, that's saying something."

He stayed silent and I used the opportunity to let out the feelings I'd been holding in. It often felt like I had to be pushed to let them out.

"I'd rather suffer from this a thousand times over than let anyone else go through it, and do you want to know why? Because it's too fucking painful. I don't just mean physically either, but believe me, that's excruciating enough for anyone to go through. But the _real _pain is the emotional pain. Knowing that you're going to die and nothings going to help. Having to watch all the people grow up around you enjoy life while you know that you're not going to live out yours. Do you know Potter, there's a nine year old muggle girl who made friends with whose suffering from leukaemia. _Nine _fucking years old. Is that just? Is that fair? Of course not. And not only is she suffering, but her mom and her brother is too. See, I'm lucky in the fact that my parents would sooner disown me than go through suffering a muggle's disease with me, but she and her whole family is going through it together. And it's certain that she's going to die. _That's _pain Potter, and that's why I'd never let anyone go through it. It's undeserved."

Everything was silent. Even the sounds of nature had fallen. The wind levels had dropped, the birds had stopped singing and even the whomping willow in the distance stood still long enough for every distinct word that Potter was going to reply with audible enough for me to hear. But the wind could have been going at speeds of ninety miles per hour, the birds could have been screeching until their beaks bled and the whomping willow could have been bashing everything in sight, because I didn't need to hear the next words as there weren't any. I had something better, something more comforting.

He hugged me.

And not a consoling 'there-there, you poor thing, you'll get through this' hug. He threw himself onto me and squeezed me tight, reluctant to let go. And before I could stop myself, I was hugging him back, squeezing him just as hard, just as reluctant to let go.

We stayed like that for a long time.

* * *

"So what is it like?"

I looked at him sharply but found that his emerald eyes were bright and earnest. He wasn't being nosy, he wasn't being rude, he just really wanted to know.

"Well," I sighed, "I can't explain it fully. But it hurts. Some mornings I just wake up and my bones fucking kill so much. Every time I move them - even move them an inch - they can really hurt."

He nodded, his eyes shifting downcast. "And um, is your er ... hair ...?" His voice trailed off.

"It's growing back really slowly," I replied. "But still not long enough for me to take this off," I said, indicating my hat.

There was an silence that had an air of awkwardness about it, but at the same time, I didn't feel compelled to have to say something to start up a conversation. In fact, it was nice just to be able to sit here with Potter and chat.

"I think you're so brave."

I snorted slightly. "Coming from 'the boy who lived?' Come on now, loads of people go through what I do. How many people can say they've been through what you're going through?"

He gave an embarrassed shrug. "Dunno," he mumbled softly. He concentrated hard on tugging blades of grass out of the ground.

"And what's that like?"

He turned to me. "Huh?"

"What's it like being Harry Potter?"

He gave an embarrassed shrug again. "I don't know. I'm just me."

"Come on," I chuckled. "You've got to feel _something_ about it! That scar isn't just an ordinary one! So tell me, what's it like?"

He looked to the sky for the moment and I saw the reflections of the clouds in his glasses. "It's ..." He shrugged again. "I really don't know." He turned to me. "But it's probably nothing like what you imagine."

"Having the whole weight of the world on your shoulders?" I offered.

He gave a small grin. "Okay, that's a pretty good description."

I grinned back, before slowly letting it fade. The situation that I was in dawned on me. I was talking to Potter like he was a normal person and he was talking to me in the same manner. This was ... this was fucked up. Why did it feel so normal to do when it was wrong in every sense? I've hated him for so long and now I don't? What the hell is wrong with me?

I think he realised what was taking place at the same time I did, but his expression didn't disappear like mine. Instead, he looked to the sky again, the small grin now turned into a pleasant, relaxed smile.

I looked down at the ground. Why exactly did I hate Potter before? Well, first of all because my father told me to. Well, that's not strictly true. My father told me to believe in you-know-who and as Potter almost defeated him, it was just a given that I was to hate him. But even so, I offered my hand to him on that first day in the carriage to Hogwarts. I guess I just wanted to be a part of him, to wallow in his celebrity status. Because although I was a Malfoy, it was nothing compared to being a Potter. When he shunned me, I was jealous. I was hurt and humiliated. I was angry and livid, but it all boiled down to jealousy. I was jealous that he was Harry Potter and I was jealous that he didn't want to be my friend. But now, did I still have cause to be jealous? I'm going to fucking die in a matter of time, I probably won't even be around to see the war.

"Hey Draco?" His voice was soft.

"What?" I replied.

His voice was soft again, with a hint of carefulness. "Do you know that girl that you mentioned? The muggle girl? Is it true?"

"Is what true? That she's suffering from leukaemia?"

"No no, I meant is it true that you've made friends with her?"

I thought for a second before answering, "yeah."

He looked me in the eyes. "But I thought you ... well, I always thought you hated muggles."

"So did I," I said evenly. "But I guess things change."

He gave a wide smile. "I guess they do."

"Do you always agree with me, or is it a new found thing? I mean, I know you find me beautiful and all ..."

He rolled his eyes at this remark. "Or maybe they don't."

I smirked. "You said it, Potter."

"Harry."

I let it pass for a second. I had a dozen snappy comebacks in my head, but I didn't use any of them. Instead I just nodded. "Right."

* * *

"And you promise to use your invisibility cloak?"

"Yes."

"Even when we're inside?"

"_Yes_."

"And you can't say a word, right?"

"Yes Draco, I've got it."

I sighed. "I don't know ..." I said, changing my mind for the fifth time.

"Oh please Draco, come on, let me come."

I let out a huff of air. "But _why_? Why do you want to come so badly?"

"Because I want to see her," Harry explained impatiently. "Hearing that Draco Malfoy has made friends with a muggle isn't a sight to be missed."

I looked at him sharply. "This isn't a fucking spectacle you know," I snapped.

"You know I don't really mean that," Harry said honestly. "I just want to meet this kid, she sounds cool."

I sighed. "Fine. But you wear the invisibility cloak at _all _times and you don't talk _at all_. Got it?"

Harry gave me a thumbs-up, pleased that he'd won. I scowled back at him, slightly angry with myself for backing down, but at the same time slightly pleased that he'd be able to see how brave Katy was.

* * *

"Stick by me," I said, doing my best to talk like a ventriloquist.

"I am," I heard him whisper. I didn't reply as I walked to the elevator that would take us to floor five. I walked into the back of the elevator anxiously and looked around the space that the businessman and the nurse that had followed in behind us had occupied. I lifted up my arm to an appropriate clear space and pinched as hard as I could. I listened out for a gasp but heard nothing. Half angrily yet half relieved , I waited until we reached the fifth floor, acting like I was waiting for someone before the elevator doors had closed. After looking down both ends of the corridor I hissed, "Potter!"

A cheeky head suddenly appeared out of nowhere and I had the sudden desire to smack it around the face.

"Hide!" I whispered loudly.

The head disappeared. "That pinch hurt you know."

"You'll get another one if you don't shut up."

A doctor passed me and flashed me a harried smile. I grinned back weakly, my heart thumping in my chest. When he'd passed, I whispered, "Come on." I made my way to the reception desk of the fifth floor and smiled at the lady at the desk. I recognized her from coming here for a while now.

"Hi, is Katy Hull in today?"

The receptionist looked crestfallen. "I'm sorry, she's not."

I sighed disappointedly. "When is she next in?"

The receptionist looked close to tears. She opened her mouth and I shook my head hurriedly to shut her up. "N-No," I stammered. "No she's not. She's _not_." Angry tears brimmed up in my eyes. "She's _not _tell me that she's not." I burst into tears and started howling maniacally. I felt an invisible hand grip my arm and I pulled it away angrily. I didn't want to be touched, I didn't want to be sympathized, I just wanted Katy back.

"She passed away a couple of days ago," the receptionist said quietly.

"You're lying," I spat angrily, wiping away the tears roughly with my sleeve. "She's not gone, she can't be."

"Draco."

I turned to see Dr. Warner standing behind me. "She's not gone," I told him.

His head lowered. "She has," he replied gravely.

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO MAKE HER BETTER," I screamed. Security guards were beginning to walk over but I didn't care. "YOUR FUCKING MEDICINE DIDN'T DO SHIT. YOU FAILED THAT LITTLE GIRL."

I spat in his face before security detained me.

"He's just upset," I heard Dr. Warner say quietly and the next thing I knew I was sitting on the side of the road outside of the hospital, screaming my pain away.

"Draco," a voice whispered.

"FUCK OFF," I screamed, knowing it was an invisible Harry. I drew a lot of puzzled stares but I didn't care. I wanted to fucking kill them all. See them writhe under my power. I wanted to control life and death and I wanted to bring Katy back. She couldn't have fucking died, she was just a little kid. It wasn't fair. This fucking evil cunt of an illness had killed her. Why did it have to exist? It wasn't fucking fair. I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder and I wrenched it away before getting up from my sitting position and running. I didn't know where I was running to and I didn't care, I just had to get away. I had to get away from Harry, get away from the truth, get away from myself, the world and everything. I just needed to escape.

Faster and faster I ran, the streets morphing into one big blur before I threw myself down a little side part of the road that led into a dingy alleyway. I roared loudly, kicking a lone dustbin for angry measure before whipping out my wand and blowing it into a million pieces.

"Draco, you need to be careful. Someone might see."

I whipped around and pointed my wand at Harry's heart. "Fuck. Off. Now." I trembled with every word I spoke.

He looked at my wand and then brought his gaze back up to my eyes. "I know you're upset, but landing yourself in Azkaban is not worth it," he said quietly and directly.

I dropped my wand on the floor and walked over to him quickly, my fist raised. He didn't flinch. I lowered it slowly and submissively. He walked past me and picked up an old flea-ridden mattress that had been left at the end of the alley.

He walked back over to me, carrying it with both hands.

"Hit it."

I didn't move.

"Go on, hit all your anger out."

I didn't move.

"HIT IT," he roared.

I curled up my fists and hit it as hard as I could, delivering blow after blow to the spongy material. I imagined it was leukeamia and I hit it hard in the gut for every fucking life it had stolen.

"Let it out, let it all out," Harry ordered.

And I did. I punched and punched until my energy had been spent at which point Harry threw the mattress on the floor and swooped me into a hug, which I gladly collapsed into in tears. He brought us both down to sit onto the mattress, my face still buried into his shoulder. He stroked my hair therapeutically and made soothing noises.

Before long my crying had been reduced to sniffs and hiccups.

"It's going to be my turn next," I whispered. I waited for a reply but I didn't receive one and the next thing I know, my eyes were closing slowly.

* * *

" ... him alone ... fucking hate you ... away."

My eyes slowly stirred open and I found myself in unfamiliar surroundings. I was in a bed of some sort however, and I felt my stomach being stroked softly while Harry spoke to it. He was crying bitterly, so I shut my eyes, feigning sleep, and listened.

"Just leave him alone," he wept, fingering my stomach. "Just go away, I fucking hate you. Just leave, please. I'm begging you, please just go. He's suffered enough. Please, just fucking go away and leave him the fuck alone."

As the tears ran down the cheeks of my silent face, they came cascading down Harry's as he cried loudly.

Gold meets silver. Ice is Fire. We were one.

* * *

**And another chapter over! We're nearing the end of the story guys. Well, not straight away, there's more updates to come yet but this story is shortening every time I update and I'm just itching to get the last chapters out. I know exactly how it's going to end (always have done) but I'm not sure if anyone will be pleased with it (I'm starting to think whether I should change it – not for anyone else, but for myself mainly because I'm starting to think it might be a little twisted.) Ah, who knows. Anyway, please review! Love you all! Jords x**


	13. Ache

**You know, when I have no work on my hands, writing this story is so much easier. Seriously, a week ago, if you'd have asked me when this chapter would be posted, I'd have screamed "NEVER!" But now, on my first relaxing day off, I managed to write this today. And I'm actually pretty pleased with it, which is a first for me. **

**Anyway, if anyone's forgotten how the last chapter ended (and I don't expect anyone to say "I haven't forgotten!") here it is:**

* * *

_My eyes slowly stirred open and I found myself in unfamiliar surroundings. I was in a bed of some sort however, and I felt my stomach being stroked softly while Harry spoke to it. He was crying bitterly, so I shut my eyes, feigning sleep, and listened._

_"Just leave him alone," he wept, fingering my stomach. "Just go away, I fucking hate you. Just leave, please. I'm begging you, please just go. He's suffered enough. Please, just fucking go away and leave him the fuck alone."_

_As the tears ran down the cheeks of my silent face, they came cascading down Harry's as he cried loudly._

_Gold meets silver. Ice is Fire. We were one._

**

* * *

**

**Here's the new chapter! Hope you enjoy guys! **

**

* * *

**

_It's weird. When you're a kid you have this picture of how your life is going to be, and it never crosses your mind that it's not going to end up like that._

_

* * *

_

"Can I come with you?" Harry asked softly. I looked at him through the reflection in the mirror.

"No," I replied.

"Please?"

"No." I said it firmly this time. His face dropped slightly and I sighed. "Look, it's confidential and I'd rather know for myself first," I explained, turning around to face him. We were in the first floor bathroom and I was getting ready to go to the hospital.

"But I want to be there for you," he said earnestly.

"No," I snapped. "Harry, stop fucking asking me the answer is no and I mean it."

He gave a shrug and lowered his head. "Okay," he replied sadly.

I turned back to the mirror and continued fixing my tie, ignoring him. A small smile crept up on my face. Harry certainly possessed Slytherin qualities all right, thinking he could make me change my mind by acting like the hurt victim. "How do I look?" I asked, turning around to face him again.

"Fine."

"Just fine?"

"Nice."

I smirked. "Yeah I do, don't I?"

Harry grinned. "Prat." His face sobered up. "Good luck," he said softly.

A fluttering in the pit of my stomach reminded me that the butterflies that I felt before each visit were still there. I merely nodded in reply and left the bathroom bumping smack bang into Pansy Parkinson.

"Watch where you're going," I growled.

"Don't act all lordly with me," she hissed. "I'll get Crabbe and Goyle to beat you up so badly you'll wish you'd never been born. You're not king of Slytherin anymore and don't you forget it."

"Shut the fuck up," I snapped dismissively.

"Still wearing that ridiculous hat I see," she smirked.

"Still look as ugly as ever," I retaliated.

"You fucking bastard," she snarled and it was at that perfect moment Harry decided to leave the bathroom. I saw Pansy's eyes light up as she registered the situation.

"Been having fun together in there?" she laughed gleefully.

"No," Harry quickly responded.

"Yes," I replied calmly.

"What?" That response came from both of them simultaneously.

"You asked if we'd been having fun together and I said 'yes', which bit of my reply don't you understand Pansy?" I asked her.

Her mouth opened and shut like a goldfish. "You dirty pair of queers!" she said disbelievingly.

"Shut up Pansy you stupid bitch -" Harry started angrily, but he was cut off by me turning his head towards mine and planting a kiss on his lips. I pulled back and saw the stunned look in his eyes. It was nothing compared to the mini panic attack that Pansy's face was going through though.

"You… You…You two just… You!"

"Well you certainly haven't got anything coherent to say Pansy, so if you don't mind, I better be off. I have an important meeting to get to."

"You fucking queers!" she spluttered. "You can guarantee everyone will know about this!" She gave a final disbelieving shake of the head before running down the corridor.

"She'll tell everyone," Harry spoke up anxiously.

I shrugged. "Let her," I replied, watching her running form down the corridor before turning to face Harry. "Right, I've got to go, I'll be late otherwise."

"But Draco, what about -"

"Harry, I really have to go now, ask me later."

"But -"

He and his words turned into a blurry form as I wrapped my fingers around an ordinary looking biro pen. At once, my surroundings meshed together and my feet were rushed from beneath me as I went on the roller coaster ride that the portkey took me through. My head spun and I felt dizzy and sick and just when I thought I couldn't take any more, I felt myself fall heavily onto the mattress that Harry had me hit a couple of weeks ago in the alley near to the hospital. I shook my head and waited until everything had stopped swimming before me before I got up and walked to the hospital.

* * *

"Have a seat." 

The graveness in Dr. Warner's voice scared me and I almost choked on a ball of fear.

"Say it," I ordered.

Dr. Warner sat down in his chair and sighed heavily before meeting my eyes finally.

"Go on, say it." I got angrier now that he was trying to sugar-coat the situation. I didn't want pity, I didn't want sympathy and I didn't need him to beat around the bush. I just wanted him to fucking tell me I was going to die and leave it at that.

"Your records show that improvement hasn't been made on the tests and -"

"Look, will you just tell me that I'm going to fucking die?" I cried.

Dr. Warner flinched slightly and I softened out of guilt. "Please," I added softly. "Don't gloss the situation. Am I going to die?"

"Yes."

My heart skipped a beat.

"How soon?" I asked shakily. He didn't answer. "HOW SOON?" I shouted.

"There's drugs you can take to prolong the death -" I felt a steel fist to the stomach at the word 'death.' " -They put a tremendous strain on the body and are not one hundred percent effective," he continued.

"How effective are they?" I asked.

"Around seventy to eighty percent," he replied. I nodded. "They can give you anything from a week up to two years for the type of leukaemia that you're suffering from," he went on. "But as I've said, it's not guaranteed success."

"And what about the strain on the body…?" I trailed off.

"You'll feel weaker, much weaker than you do now," he admitted. "You'll get quite restless, but not have the energy to do anything about it at the same time. You might start to feel disorientated, though that risk is very small and -"

"Disorientated? What do you mean?" I asked.

"Memory loss," he said directly. "Though I must stress that the risk of that happening is a small one."

"But the others aren't, right?" I cried. "The weakness and having no energy and not being able to do anything."

He sighed. "Those factors are very common," he replied. "And you will have to spend lots of time in hospital for -"

"WHY?" I interjected angrily.

" -Routine checks," he continued patiently. "You will be required here to stay here for at least three to four nights a week."

I sighed in defeat and folded my arms. "So that's it?" I asked, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. "So that's how I'm going to live the last moments of my life, in and out of fucking hospital, getting weaker by the second? I'd rather not have the fucking drugs."

"You don't have to have them," Dr Warner reminded me.

I stared at him, a million thoughts bouncing off of each other in my head. "No. I don't," I said softly to myself. "How much time will I have left without taking them?"

He sighed sadly. "I can't say," he said, shaking his head.

"Weeks? Months?" I asked anxiously.

"Draco, I don't know so I can't say," he repeated.

"Well how do I know whether I should take this fucking drug treatment thing then?" I replied angrily.

I saw sadness as I looked at him. "It's a decision you have to make," he said, before his own eyes welled up.

* * *

"Draco!" 

I looked up at the sound of my name and saw Harry running towards me.

"How's everyone reacting towards Pansy's news?" I asked.

"What?" he asked confusedly, before realising what I meant. "Oh I don't know, haven't been paying much attention really, what about you, how did it go, what did they say?" he gabbled.

"They said…" I didn't know how to soften the blow. "They said I don't have very long."

Harry paled. "How long is not very long?"

"A couple of months maybe," I said, looking him directly in the eyes. "There's these drugs that I can take that allows me to live longer, maybe up to a year or something."

Harry nodded. "A year. Right. Okay." He paled even more.

"Are you alright?" I asked, helping him into a sitting position on the stone steps leading into one of the entrances. I thought he might be sick.

"You only have a year left?" he asked timidly, sounding and looking like he didn't want to hear the answer.

I shifted uncomfortably. "Actually, I don't know how long I have left."

He looked at me. "You just said you had about a year," he pointed out.

"If I took the drugs," I said softly.

He looked confused for a moment before he registered what I meant. "Oh." Tears sprung into his eyes. "Why didn't you…?"

I shook my head. "My reasons and my reasons only."

Harry nodded, wiping his tears away roughly.

"So," I said, raising my to a cheerful tone, "We better make the most of what I've got left! Lets plan a day out!"

"Now?"

I shrugged. "Why not?"

Harry gave a tear-stained grin. "Sure!"

"We'll invite everyone!" I continued, "Make it like a big party!"

Harry's grin turned into a wistful smile. "Oh… okay yeah, great!" His words sounded forced. He was taking this news hard, obviously.

"You invite everyone you find and I'll do the same."

"Okay," he agreed. I grinned.

"You know… if we don't have much time left, we should make the most of it."

"Definitely!" I replied in agreement.

"We shouldn't hold anything back," he continued.

"Nothing at all!"

And it was at that point that Harry stood up and kissed me on the lips, trying to part them open with his tongue. I held them shut for a split second before opening my mouth and exploring his with my tongue as he did the same. I softly stroked his tongue with my own, feeling electricity spark between us as his hands roamed across my back and let them wander down to my ass. His tongue grew more urgent as it lashed out against mine and what was happening between us suddenly clicked inside my head.

I stepped back and broke the kiss.

"We should start rallying people up," I said jollily. "Let's meet back here in an hour, yeah?" and made my way into the school before Harry could reply.

I wasn't having any luck. Hardly anybody in my house was speaking to me and those who were were just nosy and wanted to know if Pansy's rumours were true. I'd forgotten about that incident to be honest, but now with people either throwing me dirty looks or asking if I was sleeping with the boy who lived, I was forced to relive it.

And that kiss. That fucking kiss. I didn't realise what sort of effect it might have on him, I'd just done it to piss Pansy off. But he'd obviously taken it the wrong way and when he kissed me back there… shit, it was all a huge fucking mess.

"Draco!"

I turned around and was greeted by Chris Peters. He was a couple of years younger than me, in the fifth year I think. We weren't on speaking terms so he wanted to speak to me about the rumours he'd heard, no doubt.

"What?" I asked coldly. He looked a bit taken aback by my tone.

"I just wanted to ask, well… is it true? You know, what everyone's saying?"

I marched off towards the direction of the meeting point. I didn't have to meet Harry for another five minutes or so but hopefully I could shake the little fucker following me around away.

"Piss off," I replied.

"I'm not being inquisitive or anything," Chris protested. "I just think you're really brave, kissing Potter like that in front of Pansy."

I stopped in my tracks to deliver him a dirty look before striding off to the meeting point again.

"Seriously, I think it's brilliant," he continued as we rounded a corner.

"Look," I said, coming to a halt outside the door where I was meeting Harry, "What is it you want?"

"I just want to say I admire you for kissing Potter in front of Pansy. Not many people would be brave enough to admit they're gay to anyone, and well, in the… position you're in right now regarding Slytherin, I think it's inspirational what you did."

"Thanks," I said curtly.

Chris wouldn't shift. "You know… I'm gay too…"

"Fascinating."

"If you ever want to… you know…"

This kid wouldn't give up. Still, I thought it'd be fun to play a little with him. "Yeah, I think I might like that," I replied with a smile. I smirked inwardly as I saw his face light up with excitement. "In fact… I want some action now. Get on your knees." His deer-caught-in-the-headlights look was a classic.

"W-w-what?" he stammered.

"Get on your knees," I replied calmly. "Get on your knees and get those whorish slutty lips of yours wrapped around my cock. Now."

He looked half scared and half excited at my tone and shakily got on his knees. I was about to push his head away and tell him to get lost when Harry decided to make an appearance. Along with a big group that consisted of roughly twenty people.

Chris looked behind and got to his knees quickly. "This isn't what it looks like," he stammered nervously and I shook my head in agreement. Everyone looked uncomfortable for a moment and I lowered my head to the floor, willing Chris to disappear. He scuttled off after a couple of seconds and I raised my gaze to the group. The first person I saw was the weasel, who looked mortified at what he'd just witnessed. Next to him stood Creevey who looked away in embarrassment when I met his eyes. And next to _him _stood Harry. My heart gave a lurch as I saw the pain in his eyes. What made it worse was that the pain in his eyes was covered by a mirage of a forced grin.

"He was just… we were just… kidding," I said lamely.

The weasel looked disgusted and turned to Harry.

"Okay, shall we get going?" he said brightly. I was certain that I was the only one who could hear the slight crack in his voice. The group followed Harry's lead out of the school ground. If I wasn't so angry at the mistiming of the event that had just took place, I would have been pleased that so many people had turned up. It was fucking ironic when I thought about it. I'd spent so many years being jealous of Harry only to discover that he's not so bad after all. And now I only had a little time left, I was spending it worrying over whether Harry was hurt or not.

I managed to get him on his own as we made our way towards Hogsmeade. "I didn't do anything with that Chris kid," I murmured. "He was just messing around and I -"

"Draco I don't care," Harry smiled, showing too many teeth to be genuine. "You can do what you want, obviously."

"Yeah but I thought that… well… what me and you did…"

"What?" Harry said quickly. There was a flicker of excitement in his eyes.

"Well, I thought you might have took it the wrong way."

"Oh." His excitement fizzled to nothingness. "I didn't think anything of it really," he said, faux nonchalantly.

I chewed on my lip as we continued to walk. "When I kissed you, it was to -"

" - To fool Pansy, yes, I know," he replied through gritted teeth. Shit, he was taking this harder than I thought and now I felt like a complete bastard but I had to make sure that he knew that nothing was going to come of this.

"And when you kissed me…?" I left the question trailing and looked on Harry. He was doing his hardest not to cry.

"I just wanted to see what it felt like," he replied finally. "No big deal really."

My heart sank. "Glad it's sorted then."

"Yeah."

We trudged on in silence for a while. I kept noticing the weasel and mudblood peering over their shoulders at us as they walked ahead.

"What are they looking at?" I spat.

"Us," Harry said flatly. He was clearly in no mood to talk to me. Unfortunately, he was the only one I was on speaking terms with out of this entire group. Nobody who I invited out accepted the invitation and I was starting to feel like a loner. I rustled up some courage to try and talk to someone. I decided on Creevey. He was younger than everyone else and might be intimidated into talking to me. I sidled over to him.

"Alright?"

He seemed surprised that I was talking to him. "Er… yeah."

I didn't know what else to say. "What are you doing?"

He looked at me like I was an idiot. "Going to Hogsmeade. With you."

I felt my face burn up with embarrassment and gave a little laugh. He didn't crack a smile. I felt more stupid by the second and was about to tell Harry that I didn't feel like going out anymore when I heard a groan from behind me. I turned around and saw it came from the Patil sisters.

"What's up?" I asked.

They looked at me suspiciously until one of them - I don't know which - said, "We're just nervous about the Muggle Studies exam."

"Yeah," the other one spoke up, "we don't know enough about medicines and illnesses."

"Yeah, I'm doing that exam too," I replied. "I only know the stuff about leukaemia."

"The hardest part," the twins groaned in unison.

"It's not that hard!"

"It is! We don't understand any of it. We keep revising and revising but it just won't stay in our minds."

"Well, I guess I could help you… if you want. What are you stuck on?"

"Everything!" one replied. "All I can remember is that it's the 14th most common type of cancer in adults."

I shook my head slowly. "Not the 14th, the 12th. An easy way to remember is that the letter L, for leukaemia, is the 12th letter in the alphabet."

They looked at me as if they didn't know whether I was telling the truth or not. "Hermione!" one of them yelled, "come here!"

The mudblood and the weasel stopped in their tracks and waited until we caught them up. I had a ball of nervousness in my stomach and I didn't know why. Maybe it was because I was coming face to face with them on somewhat friendly terms for the first time and didn't know how to react. I could see the weasel scowling at my presence from a mile off and it became more evident as we got closer and closer to them.

"What is the 12th most common type of cancer in adults?" one of them quizzed the mudblood as soon as we reached them.

"Leukaemia," she replied. "Why?" she added, giving me a sideways glance.

The twins looked impressed and grinned at me.

"What else do you want to know?" I offered.

"Is it the red or white blood cells that are affected?" one of them asked.

"White," me and the mudblood said in unison. We turned to each other and she gave me an odd look.

"When did you become the expert on muggle studies?" the weasel spoke up. "I thought your kind just liked killing them."

I looked at him, a dozen retorts going through my mind but as I opened my mouth to spit one at him, I decided to take the high road and leave it. I shrugged and looked back at the twins. "If you ever need help, you can come to me… if you want… you don't have to but if you do… I don't mind."

"Okay great!" they said in unison showing a matching pair of pearly white teeth.

I smiled shyly and started walking ahead.

"Malfoy!"

I turned around and saw the mudblood catching up with me. "That was a nice offer," she said softly.

I shrugged in embarrassment. "It was just… I don't know, I guess it was, maybe."

"And it's unlike you not to rise to any of Ron's jibes."

I was about to scowl before I saw her shining smile. "I thought that was very big of you," she finished.

"Thanks… Granger." I couldn't bring myself to call her by her first name.

"Anytime… Malfoy," she retorted with a grin. I grinned back, pleased with how things were going. If only I'd known this through school, I would have acted so differently. I started to feel sad at the life I missed out on; how things could have been if I'd acted nicer towards people, before I got those thoughts out of my head sensibly. There was no use dwelling on the past when I couldn't change it. I might as well make the most of it.

"Sorry!" I wasn't looking where I was going as I was consumed by my thoughts and trod on the back of someone's shoe. They turned around and revealed themselves to be Harry.

"It's okay," he said dully. I noticed he wasn't walking with anyone.

"Harry… I really am sorry you know," I said softly.

"You trod on my shoe Draco, get over it," he replied.

"Not that. I mean I'm sorry about…"

"Not liking me?"

"I do like you," I protested.

"But just not in the way I want you to," Harry cut me off.

I sighed. "Yes." Harry looked straight ahead determinedly. "It really hurts to say that, Harry."

"Try hearing it."

"Look, you're being unfair. I can't help who I fall in love with!"

"And neither can I!" Harry cried in response. We both stopped for a moment, staring into each other's heated eyes before we both realised that the whole group had stopped walking and were watching the scene between us unfold with goggled-eyes.

We continued to walk. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

He sighed and shook his head slowly. "Don't be. You're right, I am being unfair."

"I didn't mean -"

"No, I am," he cut me off. "You can't help who you fall in love with just as much as I can't help who _I _fall in love with."

I didn't know how to respond to this so the conversation wavered until we'd almost reach Hogsmeade.

"Here's to a fucking brilliant day out, deal?" Harry asked, his hand outstretched.

I grinned. "A fucking brilliant day out," I confirmed and shook his hand.

* * *

**And that's the ending! Argh, sorry I haven't added a chapter for so long! I've been so fucking busy! Well now that's all changed because I'm finished from uni and I can update frequently (even though there's only one chapter left in this story…) Anyway, can I say a special thanks to:**

**_OMG OKAY, THIS IS FOR PEOPLE WHO ESPECIALLY REPLIED TO MYLAST UPDATE!BASICALLY, I WAS SO DRUNK WHEN I UPDATED THIS AND CAN'T SEE PEOPLE'S NAMES BECAUSE THE INTERNET FROG THING ANNOYING THING WON'T GO AWAY, UGH! BUT THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS STUCK PATIENTLY BY THE STORY! I FUCKING LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH SO FUCKING MUCH!_**

**And sorry I couldn't respond personally but I'm just too overwhelmed at the minute (God, I feel like such a fucking diva…!)**

**Jords xx**


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